^Jf 


■m'^-'i' 


M 


f  ■  m-^ 


I   University  of  Illinois.   | 

M    Books  are  nOt  to  be  taken  from  th^ Library  Room.    «      .  ^^to 


WSMm^ 


NOVELS 


SIR    EDWARD    BULWER    LYTTON 

i 


atbrars  ISTiftfon 

HISTORICAL    ROMANCES 
VOL.  XIX. 


HAROLD, 


:i:^ 


THE    LAST   OF   THE    SAXON    KINGS 


SIR  EDWARD  BULWER  LYTTON,  BART. 


LIERAKY  EDITION— IN  TWO  VOLUMES 

\  VOL.  I. 


\ 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT    &    CO 
1865. 


?a3 


PREFACE 


The  author  of  an  able  and  learned  article  on 
Mabillon,*  in  the  Edinburgh  Eeview,  has  accu- 
rately described  my  aim  in  this  work;  although, 
with  that  generous  courtesy  which  characterizes  the 
true  scholar,  in  referring  to  the  labors  of  a  con- 
temporary, he  has  overrated  my  success.  It  was 
indeed  my  aim  "to  solve  the  problem  how  to  produce 
the  greatest  amount  of  dramatic  effect  at  the  least 
expense  of  historical  truth,"  —  I  borrow  the  words 
of  the  Reviewer,  since  none  other  could  so  tersely 
express  my  design,  or  so  clearly  account  for  the  lead- 
ing characteristics  in  its  conduct  and  completion. 

There  are  two  ways  of  employing  the  materials 
of  History  in  the  service  of  Eomance :  the  one  con- 
sists in  lending  to  ideal  personages,  and  to  an 
imaginary  fable,  the  additional  interest  to  be  derived 
from  historical  groupings :  the  other  in  extracting 
the  main  interest  of  romantic  narrative  from  History 
itself.     Those  who  adopt  the  former  mode  are  at 

*  The  Edinburgh  Review,  No.  CLXXIX.  January,  1849.  Art.  I. 
*' Correspondance  inedite,  de  Mabillon  et  de  Montfaucon,  avoc 
I'ltalie."     Par  M.  Valery.     Paris,  1848. 

1*  (V) 


Vi  PREFACE. 

liberty  to  exclude  all  that  does  not  contribute  to 
theatrical  effect  or  picturesque  composition ;  their 
fidelity  to  the  period  they  select  is  towards  the 
manners  and  costume,  not  towards  the  precise  order 
of  events,  the  moral  causes  from  which  the  events 
proceeded,  and  the  physical  agencies  by  which  they 
were  influenced  and  controlled.  The  plan  thus 
adopted  is  unquestionably  the  more  popular  and 
attractive,  and,  being  favored  by  the  most  illustrious 
writers  of  historical  romance,  there  is  presumptive 
reason  for  supposing  it  to  be  also  that  which  is  the 
more  agreeable  to  the  art  of  fiction. 

But  he  who  wishes  to  avoid  the  ground  pre-occu- 
pied  by  others,  and  claim  in  the  world  of  literature 
some  spot,  however  humble,  which  he  may  "  plough 
with  his  own  heifer,"  will  seek  to  establish  himself 
not  where  the  land  is  the  most  fertile,  but  where  it 
is  the  least  enclosed.  So,  when  I  first  turned  my 
attention  to  Historical  Eomance,  my  main  aim  was 
to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  those  fairer  portions  of 
the  soil  that  had  been  appropriated  by  the  first  dis- 
coverers. The  great  author  of  Ivanhoe,  and  those 
amongst  whom,  abroad  and  at  home,  his  raa^tle  was 
divided,  had  employed  History  to  aid  Eomance ;  I 
contented  myself  with  the  humbler  task  to  employ 
Bomance  in  the  aid  of  History  —  to  extract  from 
authentic  but  neglected  chronicles,  and  the  unfre- 
quented storehouse  of  Archaeology,  the  incidents  and 
details  that  enliven  the  dry  narrative  of  facts  to 
which  the  general  historian  is  confined  —  construct 
my  plot  from  the  actual  events  themselves,  and  place 


1'  R  K  r  A  C  K  . 


tlie  staple  of  such  interest  as  I  could  create  in 
reciting  the  struggles,  and  delineating  the  characters, 
of  those  who  had  been  the  living  actors  in  the  real 
drama.  For  the  main  materials  of  the  three  His- 
torical Romances  I  have  composed,  I  consulted  the 
original  authorities  of  the  time  with  a  care  as  scru- 
pulous, as  if  intending  to  write,  not  a  fiction,  but  a 
history.  And  having  formed  the  best  judgment  I 
could  of  the  events  and  characters  of  the  age,  I 
adhered  faithfully  to  what,  as  an  Historian,  I  should 
have  held  to  be  the  true  course  and  true  causes  of 
the  great  political  events,  and  the  essential  attributes 
of  the  principal  agents.  Solely  in  that  inward  life 
which,  not  only  as  apart  from  the  more  public  and 
historical,  but  which,  as  almost  wholly  unknown, 
becomes  the  fair  domain  of  the  poet,  did  I  claim  the 
legitimate  privileges  of  fiction,  and  even  here  I 
employed  the  agency  of  the  passions  only  so  far  as 
they  served  to  illustrate  what  I  believed  to  be  the 
genuine  natures  of  the  beings  who  had  actually  lived, 
and  to  restore  the  warmth  of  the  human  heart  to 
the  images  recalled  from  the  grave. 

Thus,  even  had  I  the  gifts  of  my  most  illustrious 
predecessors,  I  should  be  precluded  the  use  of  many 
of  the  more  brilliant.  I  shut  myself  out  from  the 
wider  scope  permitted  to  their  fancy,  and  denied 
myself  the  license  to  choose  or  select  materials,  alter 
dates,  vary  causes  and  effects  according  to  the  con- 
venience of  that  more  imperial  fiction  which  invents 
the  Probable  where  it  discards  the  Eeal.  The  mode 
I  have  adopted  has  perhaps  only  this  merit,  that  it  is 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

my  own  —  mine  by  discovery  and  mine  by  labor- 
And  if  I  can  raise  not  the  spirits  that  obeyed  the 
great  master  of  romance,  nor  gain  the  key  to  the 
fairy-land  that  opened  to  his  spell  —  at  least  I  have 
not  rifled  the  tomb  of  the  wizard  to  steal  my  art 
from  the  book  that  lies  clasped  on  his  breast. 

In  treating  of  an  age  with  which  the  general 
reader  is  so  unfamiliar  as  that  preceding  the  Norman 
Conquest,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  (especially  in  the 
earlier  portions  of  my  tale),  those  explanations  of 
the  very  character  of  the  time  which  would  have 
been  unnecessary  if  I  had  only  sought  in  History 
the  picturesque  accompaniments  to  Eomance.  I  have 
to  do  more  than  present  an  amusing  picture  of 
national  manners — detail  the  dress,  and  describe  the 
banquet.  According  to  the  plan  I  adopt,  I  have  to 
make  the  reader  acquainted  with  the  imperfect  fusion 
of  races  in  Saxon  England,  familiarize  him  with  the 
contests  of  parties  and  the  ambition  of  chiefs,  show 
him  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  a  kindly  but 
ignorant  church ;  of  a  brave  but  turbulent  aristoc- 
racy ;  of  a  people  partially  free,  and  naturally  ener- 
getic, but  disunited  by  successive  immigrations,  and 
having  lost  much  of  the  proud  jealousies  of  national 
liberty  by  submission  to  the  preceding  conquests  of 
the  Dane ;  acquiescent  in  the  sway  of  foreign  kings, 
and  with  that  bulwark  against  invasion  which  an 
hereditary  order  of  aristocracy  usually  erects,  loosened 
to  its  very  foundations  by  the  copious  admixture  of 
foreign  nobles.  I  have  to  present  to  the  reader,  here, 
the  imbecile  priestcraft  of  the  illiterate  monk ;  there, 


PREFACE.  IX 

the  dark  superstition  that  still  consulted  the  deities 
of  the  North  by  runes  on  the  elm  bark  and  adjura- 
tions of  the  dead.  And  in  contrast  to  these  pictures 
of  a  decrepit  monarchy  and  a  fated  race,  I  have  to 
bring  forcibly  before  the  reader  the  vigorous  attri- 
butes of  the  coming  conquerors — the  stern  will  and 
deep  guile  of  the  ISTorman  chief — the  comparative 
knowledge  of  the  rising  Norman  Church — the  nascent 
spirit  of  chivalry  in  the  Norman  vavasours ;  a  spirit 
destined  to  emancipate  the  very  people  it  contributed 
to  enslave,  associated,  as  it  imperfectly  was,  with  the 
sense  of  freedom  :  disdainful,  it  is  true,  of  the  villein, 
but  proudly  curbing,  though  into  feudal  limits,  the 
domination  of  the  liege.  In  a  word,  I  must  place 
fully  before  the  reader,  if  I  would  be  faithful  to  the 
plan  of  my  work,  the  political  and  moral  features  of 
the  age,  as  well  as  its  lighter  and  livelier  attributes, 
and  so  lead  him  to  perceive,  when  he  has  closed  the 
book,  why  England  was  conquered,  and  how  England 
survived  the  Conquest. 

In  accomplishing  this  task,  I  inevitably  incur  the 
objections  which  the  task  itself  raises  up — objections 
to  the  labor  it  has  cost ;  to  the  information  which 
the  labor  was  undertaken  in  order  to  bestow ;  ob- 
jections to  passages  which  seem  to  interrupt  the 
narrative,  but  which  in  reality  prepare  for  the  inci- 
dents it  embraces,  or  explain  the  position  of  the 
persons  whose  characters  it  illustrates  —  whose  fate 
it  involves ;  objections  to  the  reference  to  authorities, 
where  a  fact  might  be  disputed,  or  mistaken  for 
fiction;   objections  to  the  use  of  Saxon  words,  for 


PREFACE. 


whicli  no  accurate  synonyms  could  be  exchanged; 
objections,  in  short,  to  the  coloring,  conduct,  and 
composition  of  the  whole  work ;  objections  to  all  that 
separate  it  from  the  common  crowd  of  Romances, 
and  stamp  on  it,  for  good  or  for  bad,  a  character 
peculiarly  its  own.  Objections  of  this  kind  I  cannot 
remove,  though  I  have  carefully  weighed  them  all. 
And  with  regard  to  the  objection  most  important  to 
story-teller  and  novel-reader  —  viz.,  the  dryness  of 
some  of  the  earlier  portions,  though  I  have  thrice 
gone  over  those  passages,  with  the  stern  determina- 
tion to  inflict  summary  justice  upon  every  unneces- 
sary line,  I  must  own  to  my  regret  that  I  have  found 
but  little  which  it  was  possible  to  omit  without 
rendering  the  after  narrative  obscure,  and  without 
injuring  whatever  of  more  stirring  interest  the  story, 
as  it  opens,  may  afford  to  the  general  reader  of 
Romance. 

As  to  the  Saxon  words  used,  an  explanation  of  all 
those  that  can  be  presumed  unintelligible  to  a  person 
of  ordinary  education,  is  given  either  in  the  text  or 
a  foot-note.  Such  archaisms  are  much  less  numerous 
than  certain  critics  would  fain  represent  them  to  be; 
and  they  have  rarely  indeed  been  admitted  where 
other  words  could  have  been  employed  without  a 
glaring  anachronism  or  a  tedious  periphrase.  Would 
it  indeed  be  possible,  for  instance,  to  convey  a  notion 
of  the  customs  and  manners  of  our  Saxon  forefathers 
without  employing  words  so  mixed  up  with  their 
daily  usages  and  modes  of  thinking,  as  '' weregeld'' 
and   '^  niddering  f "     Would   any   words   from   the 


PREfACE.  XI 

modern  vocabulary  suggest  the  same  idea  or  embody 
tbe  same  meaning  ? 

One  critic  good-humor edly  exclaims,  '*  "We  have  a 
full  attendance  of  thegns  and  cnehts,  but  we  should 
have  liked  much  better  our  old  friends  and  approved 
good  masters,  thanes  and  knights."  In"o thing  could 
be  more  apposite  for  my  justification  than  the  in- 
stances here  quoted  in  censiire ;  nothing  could  more 
plainly  vindicate  the  necessity  of  employing  the 
Saxon  words.  For  I  should  sadly  indeed  have  mis- 
led the  reader,  if  I  had  used  the  word  knight  in  an 
age  when  knights  were  wholly  unknown  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon;  and  cneht  no  more  means  what  we 
understand  by  knight,  than  a  templar,  in  modern 
phrase,  means  a  man  in  chain  mail  vowed  to  celibacy, 
and  the  redemption  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  the 
hands  of  the  Mussulman.  While,  since  thegn  and 
thane  are  both  archaisms,  I  prefer  the  former ;  not 
only  for  the  same  reason  that  induces  Sir  Francis 
Palgrave  to  prefer  it,  viz.,  because  it  is  the  more 
etymologically  correct;  but  because  we  take  from 
our  neighbors  the  Scotch,  not  only  the  word  thane, 
but  the  sense  in  which  we  apply  it,  and  that  sense  is 
not  the  same  that  we  ought  to  attach  to  the  various 
and  complicated  notions  of  nobility  which  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  comprehended  in  the  title  of  thegn.  It  has 
been  peremptorily  said  by  more  than  one  writer  in 
periodicals,  that  I  have  overrated  the  erudition  of 
William,  in  permitting  him  to  know  Latin ;  nay,  to 
have  read  the  Comments  of  Csesar  at  the  age  of 
eight.     Where  these  gentlemen  find  the  authorities 


PREFACE, 


to  confute  my  statement  I  know  not ;  all  I  know  is, 
that  in  the  statement  I  have  followed  the  original 
authorities  usually  deemed  the  best.  And  I  content 
myself  with  referring  the  disputants  to  a  work  not 
so  difficult  to  procure  as  (and  certainly  more  pleasant 
to  read  than)  the  old  Chronicles.  In  Miss  Strick- 
land's ''Lives  of  the  Queens  of  England"  (Matilda 
of  Flanders),  the  same  statement  is  made,  and  no 
doubt  upon  the  same  authorities. 

More  surprised  should  I  be  (if  modern  criticism 
had  not  taught  me  in  all  matters  of  assumption  the 
nil  admirari),  to  find  it  alleged  that  I  have  over- 
stated not  only  the  learning  of  the  Norman  duke, 
but  that  which  flourished  in  ITormandy  under  his 
reign  ;  for  I  should  have  thought  that  the  fact  of  the 
learning  which  sprung  up  in  the  most  thriving  period 
of  that  principality ;  the  rapidity  of  its  growth  :  the 
benefits  it  derived  from  Lanfranc;  the  encourage- 
ment it  received  from  William,  had  been  phenomena 
too  remarkable  in  the  annals  of  the  age,  and  in  the 
history  of  literature,  to  have  met  with  an  incredulity 
which  the  most  moderate  amount  of  information 
would  have  sufficed  to  dispel.  Not  to  refer  such 
skeptics  to  graver  authorities,  historical  and  eccle- 
siastical, in  order  to  justify  my  representations  of 
that  learning  which,  under  William  the  Bastard, 
made  the  schools  of  Normandy  the  popular  academies 
of  Europe,  a  page  or  two  in  a  book  so  accessible  as 
Villemain's  "  Tableau  de  Moyen  Age,"  will  perhaps 
suffice  to  convince  them  of  the  hastiness  of  their 
censure,  and  the  error  of  their  impressions. 


PREFACE.  Xlli 

It  is  stated  in  tlie  Athenaeum,  and,  I  believe,  by  a 
writer  wbose  authority  on  the  merits  of  opera-singers 
I  am  far  from  contesting,  but  of  whose  competence 
to  instruct  the  world  in  any  other  department  of 
human  industry  or  knowledge  I  am  less  persuaded, 
"  that  I  am  much  mistaken  when  I  represent  not 
merely  the  clergy,  but  the  young  soldiers  and  cour- 
tiers of  the  reign  of  the  Confessor,  as  well  acquainted 
with  the  hterature  of  Greece  and  Eome." 

The  remark,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  disingenuous. 
I  have  done  no  such  thing.  This  general  animad- 
version is  only  justified  by  a  reference  to  the  pedantry 
of  the  ISTorman  Mallet  de  Graville  —  and  it  is  ex- 
pressly stated  in  the  text  that  Mallet  de  Graville 
was  originally  intended  for  the  Church,  and  that  it 
was  the  peculiarity  of  his  literary  information,  rare 
in  a  soldier  (but  for  which  his  earlier  studies  for  the 
ecclesiastical  calling  readily  account,  at  a  time  when 
the  Norman  convent  of  Bee  was  already  so  famous 
for  the  erudition  of  its  teachers,  and  the  number  of 
its  scholars),  that  attracted  towards  him  the  notice 
of  Lanfranc,  and  founded  his  fortunes.  Pedantry  is 
made  one  of  his  characteristics  (as  it  generally  was 
the  characteristic  of  any  man  with  some  pretensions 
to  scholarship,  in  the  earlier  ages) ;  and  if  he  indulges 
in  a  classical  allusion,  whether  in  taunting  a  courtier 
or  conversing  with  a  ''Saxon  from  the  wealds  of 
Kent,"  it  is  no  more  out  of  keeping  with  the  pedantry 
ascribed  to  him,  than  it  is  unnatural  in  Dominie 
Sampson  to  rail  at  Meg  Merrilies  in  Latin,  or  James 
the  First  to  examine  a  young  courtier  in  the  same 

I.— 2 


XIV  PREFACE. 

unfamiliar  language.  Nor  should  the  critic  in 
question,  when  inviting  his  readers  to  condemn  me 
for  making  Mallet  de  G-raville  quote  Horace,  have 
omitted  to  state  that  De  Graville  expressly  laments 
that  he  had  never  read,  nor  could  even  procure  a 
copy  of  the  Eoman  poet — judging  only  of  the  merits 
of  Horace  by  an  extract  in  some  monkish  author, 
who  was  equally  likely  to  have  picked  up  his  quota- 
tion second-hand. 

So,  when  a  reference  is  made  either  by  Graville, 
or  by  any  one  else  in  the  romance,  to  Homeric  fables 
and  personages,  a  critic  who  had  gone  through  the 
ordinary  education  of  an  English  gentleman,  would 
never  thereby  have  assumed  that  the  person  so  re- 
ferring had  read  the  poems  of  Homer  themselves  — 
he  would  have  known  that  Homeric  fables,  or  per- 
sonages, though  not  the  Homeric  poems,  were  made 
familiar,  by  quaint  travesties,*  even  to  the  most 
illiterate  audience  of  the  Gothic  age.  It  was  scarcely 
more  necessary  to  know  Homer  then  than  now,  in 
order  to  have  heard  of  Ulysses.  The  writer  in  the 
Athenaeum  is  acquainted  with  Homeric  personages, 
but  who  on  earth  would  ever  presume  to  assert  that 
he  is  acquainted  with  Homer  ? 

Some  doubt  has  been  thrown  upon  my  accuracy  in 
ascribing  to  the  Anglo-Saxons  the  enjoyments  of 
certain  luxuries  (gold  and  silver  plate  —  the  use  of 

*  And  long  before  the  date  of  the  travesty  known  to  us,  and 
most  popular  amongst  our  mediseval  ancestors,  it  might  be  shown 
that  some  rude  notion  of  Homer's  fable  and  personages  had  crept 
into  the  North. 


PREFACE,  XV 

glasS;  &c.)  which  were  extremely  rare  in  an  age 
much  more  recent.  There  is  no  ground  for  that 
doubt ;  nor  is  there  a  single  article  of  such  luxury- 
named  in  the  text,  for  the  mention  of  which  I  have 
not  ample  authority. 

I  have  indeed  devoted  to  this  work  a  degree  of 
research  which,  if  unusual  to  romance,  I  cannot  con- 
sider superfluous  when  illustrating  an  age  so  remote, 
and  events  unparalleled  in  their  influence  over  the 
destinies  of  England.  Nor  am  I  without  the  hope, 
that  what  the  romance-reader  at  first  regards  as  a 
defect,  he  may  ultimately  acknowledge  as  a  merit; 
— forgiving  me  that  strain  on  his  attention  by  which 
alone  I  could  leave  distinct  in  his  memory  the  action 
and  the  actors  in  that  solemn  tragedy  which  closed 
on  the  field  of  Hastings,  over  the  corpse  of  the  Last 
Saxon  King. 


HAK 

THE  LAST  OF  T 


BOOK   F 


THE  NORMAN  VISITOR,  THE  SAXON  KING,  AND  THE  DANISH 
PROPHETESS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Merry  was  the  month  of  May,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1052.  Few  were  the  boys,  and  few  the  lasses,  who  over- 
slept themselves  on  the  first  of  that  buxom  month.  Long 
ere  the  dawn,  the  crowds  had  sought  mead  and  woodland, 
to  cut  poles  and  wreathe  flowers.  Many  a  mead  then  lay 
fair  and  green  beyond  the  village  of  Charing,  and  behind 
the  isle  of  Thorney  (amidst  the  brakes  and  briars  of 
which  were  then  rising  fast  and  fair  the  Hall  and  Abbey 
of  Westminster)  many  a  wood  lay  dark  in  the  star-light, 
along  the  higher  ground  that  sloped  from  the  dank 
Strand,  with  its  numerous  canals  or  dykes ;  —  and  on 
either  side  of  the  great  road  into  Kent: — flutes  and 
horns  sounded  far  and  near  through  the  green  places,  and 
laughter  and  song,  and  the  crash  of  breaking  boughs. 
2  *  B  (17) 


18  HAROLD. 

As  the  dawn  came  grey  up  the  east,  arch  and  blooming 
faces  bowed  down  to  bathe  in  the  May  dew.  Patient 
oxen  stood  dozing  by  the  hedge-rows,  all  fragrant  with 
blossoms,  till  the  gay  spoilers  of  the  May  came  forth  from 
the  woods  with  lusty  poles,  followed  by  girls  with  laps 
full  of  flowers,  which  they  had  caught  asleep.  The  poles 
were  pranked  with  nosegays,  and  a  chaplet  was  hung 
round  the  horns  of  every  ox.  Then  towards  day-break, 
the  processions  streamed  back  into  the  city,  through  all 
its  gates  ;  boys  with  their  May-gads  (peeled  willow  wands 
twined  with  cowslips)  going  before ;  and  clear  through 
the  lively  din  of  the  horns  and  flutes,  and  amidst  the 
moving  grove  of  branches,  choral  voices,  singing  some 
early  Saxon  stave,  precursor  of  the  later  song  — 

'*We  have  brought  the  summer  home." 

Often  in  the  good  old  days  before  the  Monk-king 
reigned,  kings  and  ealdermen  had  thus  gone  forth  a-may- 
ing ;  but  these  merriments,  savoring  of  heathenesse,  that 
good  prince  misliked  :  nevertheless  the  song  was  as  blithe, 
and  the  boughs  were  as  green,  as  if  king  and  ealderman 
had  walked  in  the  train. 

On  the  great  Kent  road,  the  fairest  meads  for  the  cow- 
slip, and  the  greenest  woods  for  the  bough,  surrounded 
a  large  building  that  had  once  belonged  to  some  volup- 
tuous Roman,  now  all  defaced  and  despoiled  ;  but  the 
boys  and  lasses  shunned  those  demesnes ;  and  even  in 
their  mirth,  as  they  passed  homeward  along  the  road,  and 
saw  near  the  ruined  walls,  and  timbered  out-buildings. 


HAROLD.  19 

grey  Druid  stones  (that  spoke  of  an  age  before  either 
Saxon  or  Roman  invader,)  gleaming  through  the  dawn 
— the  song  was  hushed — the  very  youngest  crossed  them- 
selves ;  and  the  elder,  in  solemn  whispers,  suggested  the 
precaution  of  changing  the  song  into  a  psalm.  For  in 
that  old  building  dwelt  Hilda,  of  famous  and  dark  repute  ; 
Hilda,  who,  despite  all  law  and  canon,  was  still  believed 
to  practise  the  dismal  arts  of  the  Wicca  and  Morthwyrtha 
(the  witch  and  worshipper  of  the  dead).  But  once  out 
of  sight  of  those  fearful  precincts,  the  psalm  was  for- 
gotten, and  again  broke,  loud,  clear,  and  silvery,  the 
joyful  chorus. 

^  So,  entering  London  about  sunrise,  doors  and  windows 
were  duly  wreathed  with  garlands ;  and  every  village  in 
the  suburbs  had  its  May-pole,  which  stood  in  its  place  all 
the  year.  On  that  happy  day,  labor  rested ;  ceorl  and 
theowe  had  alike  a  holiday  to  dance,  and  tumble  round 
the  May-pole ;  and  thus,  on  the  first  of  May, —  Youth, 
and  Mirth,  and  Music,  "brought  the  summer  home." 

The  next  day,  you  might  still  see  whexe  the  buxom 
bands  had  been  ;  you  might  track  their  way  by  fallen 
flowers,  and  green  leaves,  and  the  deep  ruts  made  by  oxen 
(yoked  often  in  teams  from  twenty  to  forty,  in  the  wains 
that  carried  home  the  poles) ;  and  fair  and  frequent 
throughout  the  land,  from  any  eminence,  you  might  be- 
hold the  hamlet  swards  still  crowned  with  the  May  trees, 
and  the  air  still  seemed  fragrant  with  their  garlands. 

It  is  on  that  second  day  of  May,  1052,  that  my  story 
opens,  at  the  House  of  Hilda,  the  reputed  Morthwyrtha. 


20  HAROLD. 

It  stood  upon  a  gentle  and  verdant  height;  and  even 
through  all  the  barbarous  mutilation  it  had  undergone 
from  barbarian  hands,  enough  was  left  strikingly  to  con- 
trast the  ordinary  abodes  of  the  Saxon. 

The  remains  of  Roman  art  were  indeed  still  numerous 
throughout  England,  but  it  happened  rarely  that  the 
Saxon  had  chosen  his  home  amidst  the  villas  of  those 
noble  and  primal  conquerors.  Our  first  forefathers  were 
more  inclined  to  destroy  than  to  adapt. 

By  what  chance  this  building  became  an  exception  to 
the  ordinary  rule,  it  is  now  impossible  to  conjecture,  but 
from  a  very  remote  period  it  had  sheltered  successive 
races  of  Teuton  lords. 

The  changes  wrought  in  the  edifice  were  mournful  and 
grotesque.  What  Was  now  the  Hall,  had  evidently  been 
the  atrium  ;  the  round  shield,  with  its  pointed  boss,  the 
spear,  sword,  and  small  curved  ssex  of  the  early  Teuton, 
were  suspended  from  the  columns  on  which  once  had  been 
wreathed  the  flowers  ;  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  where 
fragments  of  the  old  mosaic  still  glistened  from  the  hard- 
pressed  paving  of  clay  and  lime,  what  now  was  the  fire- 
place, had  been  the  impluvium,  and  the  smoke  went  sul- 
lenly through  the  aperture  in  the  roof,  made  of  old  to 
receive  the  rains  of  heaven.  Around  the  Hall  were  still 
left  the  old  cubicola  or  dormitories  (small,  high,  and 
lighted  but  from  the  doors),  v/hich  now  served  for  the 
sleeping-rooms  of  the  humbler  guest  or  the  household 
servant ;  while  at  the  farther  end  of  the  Hall,  the  wide 
space  between  the  columns,  which  had  once  given  ample 


HAROLD.  21 

vista  from  graceful  awnings  into  tablinum  and  viridarium, 
was  filled  up  with  rude  rubble  and  Roman  bricks,  leaving 
but  a  low,  round,  arched  door,  that  still  led  into  the  tabli- 
num. But  that  tablinum,  formerly  the  gayest  state-room 
of  the  Roman  lord,  was  now  filled  with  various  lumber, 
piles  of  faggots,  and  farming  utensils.  On  either  side 
of  this  desecrated  apartment,  stretched  to  the  right,  the 
old  lararium,  stripped  of  its  ancient  images  of  ancestor 
and  god ;  to  the  left,  what  had  been  the  gynoecium  (wo- 
men's apartment). 

One  side  of  the  ancient  peristyle,  which  was  of  vast 
extent,  was  now  converted  into  stabling,  sties  for  swine, 
and  stalls  for  oxen.  On  the  other  side  was  constructed 
a  Christian  chapel,  made  of  rough  oak  planks,  fastened 
by  plates  at  the  top,  and  with  a  roof  of  thatched  reeds. 
The  columns  and  wall  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  peristyle 
were  a  mass  of  ruins,  through  the  gigantic  rents  of  which 
loomed  a  grassy  hillock,  its  sides  partially  covered  with 
clumps  of  furze.  On  this  hillock  were  the  mutilated  re- 
mains of  an  ancient  Druidical  crommel,  in  the  centre  of 
which  (near  a  funeral  mound,  or  barrow,  with  the  bau- 
tastean,  or  grave-stone,  of  some  early  Saxon  chief  at  one 
end)  had  been  sacrilegiously  placed  an  altar  to  Thor,  as 
was  apparent  both  from  the  shape,  from  a  rude,  half- 
obliterated,  sculptured  relief  of  the  god,  with  his  lifted 
hammer,  and  a  few  Runic  letters.  Amidst  the  temple 
of  the  Briton  the  Saxon  had  reared  the  shrine  of  his  tri- 
umphant war-god. 

Now  still,  ami(Jst  the  ruins  of  that  extreme  side  of  the 


22  HAROLD. 

peristyle  which  opened  to  this  hillock  were  left,  first,  an 
ancient  Roman  fountain,  that  now  served  to  water  the 
swine,  and  next,  a  small  sacellum,  or  fane  to  Bacchus  (as 
relief  and  frieze,  yet  spared,  betokened)  :  thus  the  eye,  at 
one  survey,  beheld  the  shrines  of  four  creeds ;  the  Druid, 
mystical  and  symbolical ;  the  Roman,  sensual,  but  hu- 
mane ;  the  Teutonic,  ruthless  and  destroying ;  and,  latest 
risen  and  surviving  all,  though  as  yet  with  but  little  of  its 
gentler  influence  over  the  deeds  of  men,  the  edifice  of  the 
Faith  of  Peace. 

Across  the  peristyle,  theowes  and  swineherds  passed  to 
and  fro  :  —  in  the  atrium,  men  of  a  higher  class,  half 
armed,  were,  some  drinking,  some  at  dice,  some  playing 
with  huge  hounds,  or  caressing  the  hawks  that  stood 
grave  and  solemn  on  their  perches. 

The  lararium  was  deserted  ;  the  gynoecium  was  still,  as 
in  the  Roman  time,  the  favored  apartment  of  the  female 
portion  of  the  household,  and  indeed  bore  the  same 
name,*  —  and  with  the  group  there  assembled  we  have 
now  to  do. 

The  appliances  of  the  chamber  showed  the  rank  and 
wealth  of  the  owner.  At  that  period  the  domestic 
luxury  of  the  rich  was  infinitely  greater  than  has  been 
generally  supposed.  The  industry  of  the  women  deco- 
rated wall  and  furniture  with  needlework  and  hangings : 
and  as  a  Thegn  forfeited  his  rank  if  he  lost  his  lands,  so 
the  higher  orders  of  an  aristocracy  rather  of  wealth  than 

*  *'  The  apartment  in  "which  the  Anglo-Saxon  women  lived,  was 
called  GynGciam"-^  Fosbrooke,  vol.  ii.  p.  670. 


HAROLD.  23 

birth,  had,  usually,  a  certain  portion  of  superfluous  riches, 
which  served  to  flow  towards  the  bazaars  of  the  East 
and  the  nearer  markets  of  Flanders  and  Saracenic  Spain. 
In  this  room  the  walls  were  draped  with  silken  hang- 
ings richly  embroidered.  The  single  window  was  glazed 
with  a  dull  grey  glass.*  On  a  beaufet  were  ranged  horns 
tipped  with  silver,  and  a  few  vessels  of  pure  gold.  A 
small  circular  table  in  the  centre  was  supported  by  sym- 
bolical monsters  quaintly  carved.  At  one  side  of  the 
wall,  on  a  long  settle,  some  half-a-dozen  handmaids  were 
employed  in  spinning  ;  remote  from  them,  and  near  the 
window,  sat  a  woman  advanced  in  years,  and  of  a  mien 
and  aspect  singularly  majestic.  Upon  a  small  tripod  be- 
fore her  was  a  Runic  manuscript,  and  an  inkstand  of  ele- 
gant form,  with  a  silver  graphium,  or  pen.  At  her  feet 
reclined  a  girl  somewhat  about  the  age  of  sixteen,  her 
long  fair  hair  parted  across  her  forehead  and  falling  far 
down  her  shoulders.  Her  dress  was  a  linen  under  tunic, 
with  long  sleeves,  rising  high  to  the  throat,  and  without 
one  of  the  modern  artificial  restraints  of  the  shape,  the 
simple  belt  sufl&ced  to  show  the  slender  proportions  and 

.  *  Glass,  introduced  about  the  time  of  Bede,  was  more  common 
then  in  the  houses  of  the  wealthy,  whether  for  vessels  or  windows, 
than  in  the  much  later  age  of  the  gorgeous  Plantagenets.  Alfred, 
in  one  of  his  poems,  introduces  glass  as  a  familiar  illustration  :  — 

*'  So  oft  the  mild  sea 
With  south  wind 
As  grey  glass  clear 
Becomes  grimly  troubled-" 

Shakon  Turner. 


24  HAROLD, 

delicate  outline  of  the  wearer.  The  color  of  the  dress 
was  of  the  purest  white,  but  its  hems,  or  borders,  were 
richly  embroidered.  This  girl's  beauty  was  something 
marvellous.  In  a  land  proverbial  for  fair  women,  it  had 
already  obtained  her  the  name  of  "the  fair."  In  that 
beauty  were  blended,  not  as  yet  without  a  struggle  for 
mastery,  the  two  expressions  seldom  united  in  one 
countenance,  the  soft  and  the  noble  ;  indeed  in  the  whole 
aspect  there  was  the  evidence  of  some  internal  struggle  ; 
the  intelligence  was  not  yet  complete  ;  the  soul  and  heart 
were  not  yet  united  :  and  Edith  the  Christian  maid  dwelt 
in  the  home  of  Hilda  the  heathen  prophetess.  The  girl's 
blue  eyes,  rendered  dark  by  the  shade  of  their  long  lashes, 
were  fixed  intently  upon  the  stern  and  troubled  counte- 
nance which  was  bent  upon  her  own,  but  bent  with  that 
abstract  gaze  which  shows  that  the  soul  is  absent  from 
the  sight.  So  sate  Hilda,  and  so  reclined  her  grandchild 
Edith. 

"Grandma,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low  voice  and  after  a 
long  pause  ;  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  so  startled  the 
handmaids,  that  every  spindle  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
then  plied  with  renewed  activity  ;  "  Grandma,  what  trou- 
bles you  —  are  you  not  thinking  of  the  great  Earl  and 
his  fair  sons,  now  outlawed  far  over  the  wide  seas  ?" 

As  the  girl  spoke,  Hilda  started  slightly,  like  one 
awakened  from  a  dream ;  and  when  Edith  had  concluded 
her  question,  she  rose  slowly  to  the  height  of  a  statue, 
unbowed  by  her  years,  and  far  towering  above  even  the 
ordinary  standard  of  men  ;  and  turning  from  the  child, 


HAROLD.  25 

her  eye  fell  upon  the  row  of  silent  maids,  each  at  her 
rapid,  noiseless,  stealthy  work.  "  Ho  ! "  said  she  ;  her 
cold  and  haughty  eye  gleaming  as  she  spoke;  "yester- 
day, they  brought  home  the  summer — to-day,  ye  aid  to 
bring  home  the  winter.  Weave  well  —  heed  well  warf 
and  woof;  Skulda*  is  amongst  ye,  and  her  pale  fingers 
guide  the  web  !" 

The  maidens  lifted  not  their  eyes,  though  in  every 
cheek  the  color  paled  at  the  words  of  the  mistress.  The 
spindles  revolved,  the  thread  shot,  and  again  there  was 
silence  more  freezing  than  before. 

"Askest  thou,"  said  Hilda  at  length,  passing  to  the 
child,  as  if  the  question  so  long  addressed  to  her  ear  had 
only  just  reached  her  mind;  "askest  thou  if  I  thought 
of  the  Earl  and  his  fair  sons  ?  —  yea,  I  heard  the  smith 
welding  arms  on  the  anvil,  and  the  hammer  of  the  ship- 
wright shaping  strong  ribs  for  the  horses  of  the  sea.  Ere 
the  reaper  has  bound  his  sheaves,  Earl  Godwin  will  scare 
the  Normans  in  the  halls  of  the  Monk  King,  as  the  hawk 
scares  the  brood  in  the  dove-cot.  Weave  well,  heed  well 
warf  and  woof,  nimble  maidens  —  strong  be  the  texture, 
for  biting  is  the  worm." 

"What  weave  they,  then,  good  grandmother  ?"  asked 
the  girl,  with  wonder  and  awe  in  her  soft  mild  eyes. 

*'  The  winding-sheet  of  the  great !  " 

Hilda's  lips  closed,  but  her  eyes,  yet  brighter  than  be- 

*  Skulda,  the  Norma,  or  Fate,  that  presided  over  the  future. 

L— 3 


26  HAROLD. 

fore,  gazed  upon  space,  and  her  pale  hand  seemed  tracing 
letters,  like  runes,  in  the  air. 

Then  slowly  she  turned,  and  looked  forth  through  the 
dull  window.  "  Give  me  my  coverchief  and  my  staff," 
said  she,  quickly. 

Every  one  of  the  handmaids,  blithe  for  excuse  to  quit 
a  task  which  seemed  recently  commenced,  and  was  cer- 
tainly not  endeared  to  them  by  the  knowledge  of  its  pur- 
pose communicated  to  them  by  the  lady,  rose  to  obey. 

Unheeding  the  hands  that  vied  with  each  other,  Hilda 
took  the  hood,  and  drew  it  partially  over  her  brow. 
Leaning  lightly  on  a  long  staff,  the  head  of  which  formed 
a  raven,  carved  from  some  wood  stained  black,  she  passed 
into  the  hall,  and  thence  through  the  desecrated  tablinum, 
into  the  mighty  court  formed  by  the  shattered  peristyle  ; 
there  she  stopped,  mused  a  moment,  and  called  on  Edith. 
The  girl  was  soon  by  her  side. 

"  Come  with  me.  There  is  a  face  you  shall  see  but 
twice  in  life  ;  —  this  day,"  —  and  Hilda  paused,  and  the 
rigid  and  almost  colossal  beauty  of  her  countenance 
softened. 

"And  when  again,  my  grandmother?" 

"  Child,  put  thy  warm  hand  in  mine.  So  !  the  vision 
darkens  from  me.  —  When  again,  saidst  thou,  Edith  ?  — 
alas,  I  know  not." 

While  thus  speaking,  Hilda  passed  slowly  by  the  Ro- 
man fountain  and  the  heathen  fane,  and  ascended  the 
little  hillock.    There,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  summit, 


HAROLD.  21 

backed  by  the  Druid  crommel  and  the  Teuton  altar,  she 
seated  herself  deliberately  on  the  sward. 

A  few  daisies,  primroses,  and  cowslips,  grew  around  : 
these  Edith  began  to  pluck.  Singing,  as  she  wove,  a 
simple  song,  that,  not  more  by  the  dialect  than  the  senti- 
ment, betrayed  its  origin  in  the  ballad  of  the  Xorse,* 
which  had,  in  its  more  careless  composition,  a  character 
quite  distinct  from  the  artificial  poetry  of  the  Saxons. 
The  song  may  be  thus  imperfectly  rendered  : 

"  Mirrily  the  throstle  sings 
Amid  the  merry  May, 
The  throstle  sings  but  to  my  ear ; 
My  heart  is  far  away! 

Blithely  bloometh  mead  and  bank; 

And  blithely  buds  the  tree; 
And  hark !  —  they  bring  the  summer  home  ! 

It  has  no  home  with  me ! 

They  have  outlaw'd  him  —  my  Summer  I 

An  outlaw  far  away !  — 
The  birds  may  sing,  the  flowers  may  bloom,  — 

0,  give  me  back  my  May ! " 

As  she  came  to  the  last  line,  her  soft  low  voice  seemed 
to  awaken  a  chorus  of  sprightly  horns  and  trumpets,  and 

*  The  historians  of  our  literature  have  not  done  justice  to  the 
great  influence  which  the  poetry  of  the  Danes  has  had  upon  our 
early  national  muse.  I  have  little  doubt  but  that  to  that  source 
may  be  traced  the  minstrelsy  of  our  borders,  and  the  Scottish  Low- 
lands ;  while,  even  in  the  central  counties,  the  example  and  exer- 
tions of  Canute  must  have  had  considerable  eff"ect  on  the  taste  and 
spirit  of  our  Scops.  That  great  prince  afforded  the  amplest  encou- 
ragement to  Scandinavian  poetry,  and  Olaus  names  eight  Danish 
poets,  who  flourished  at  his  court. 


28  HAROLD. 

certain  other  wind  instruments  peculiar  to  the  music  of 
that  day.  The  hillock  bordered  the  high  road  to  Lon- 
don— which  then  wound  through  wastes  of  forest  land — - 
and  now  emerging  from  the  trees  to  the  left  appeared  a 
goodly  company.  First  came  two  riders  abreast,  each 
holding  a  banner.  On  the  one  was  depicted  the  cross 
and  five  martlets,  the  device  of  Edward,  afterwards  sur- 
named  the  Confessor  :  on  the  other,  a  plain  broad  cross 
with  a  deep  border  round  it,  and  the  streamer  shaped 
into  sharp  points. 

The  first  was  familiar  to  Edith,  who  dropped  her  gar- 
land to  gaze  on  the  approaching  pageant ;  the  last  was 
strange  to  her.  She  had  been  accustomed  to  see  the 
banner  of  the  great  Earl  Godwin  by  the  side  of  the  Saxon 
king ;   and  she  said,  almost  indignantly, — 

"Who  dares,  sweet  grandam,  to  place  banner  or  pen- 
non where  Earl  Godwin's  ought  to  float?" 

"Peace,"  said  Hilda,  "peace,  and  look." 

Immediately  behind  the  standard-bearers  came  two 
figures  —  strangely  dissimilar  indeed  in  mien,  in  years,  in 
bearing :  each  bore  on  his  left  wrist  a  hawk.  The  one 
was  mounted  on  a  milk-white  palfrey,  with  housings  in- 
laid with  gold  and  uncut  jewels.  Though  not  really  old 
—  for  he  was  much  on  this  side  of  sixty :  both  his  coun- 
tenance and  carriage  evinced  age.  His  complexion,  in- 
deed, was  extremely  fair,  and  his  cheeks  ruddy ;  but  the 
visage  was  long  and  deeply  furrowed,  and  from  beneath 
a  bonnet  not  dissimilar  to  those  in  use  among  the  Scotch, 
streamed  hair  long  and  white  as  snow,  mingling  with  a 


HAROLD.  29 

large  and  forked  beard.  White  seemed  his  chosen  color. 
White  was  the  upper  tunic  clasped  on  his  shoulder  with  a 
broad  ouche  or  brooch  ;  white  the  woollen  leggings  fitted 
to  somewhat  emaciated  limbs;  and  white  the  mantle, 
though  broidered  with  a  broad  hem  of  gold  and  purple. 
The  fashion  of  his  dress  was  that  which  well  became  a 
noble  person,  but  it  suited  ill  the  somewhat  frail  and 
graceless  figure  of  the  rider.  ]S"evertheless,  as  Edith 
saw  him,  she  rose,  with  an  expression  of  deep  reverence 
on  her  countenance,  and  saying,  "  It  is  our  lord  the 
king,"  advanced  some  steps  down  the  hillock,  and  there 
stood,  her  arms  folded  on  her  breast,  and  quite  forgetful, 
in  her  innocence  and  youth,  that  she  had  left  the  house 
without  the  cloak  and  coverchief  which  were  deemed  in- 
dispensable to  the  fitting  appearance  of  maid  and  matron 
when  they  were  seen  abroad. 

"  Fair  sir,  and  brother  mine,"  said  the  deep  voice  of 
the  younger  rider,  in  the  Romance  or  Xorman  tongue, 
"  I  have  heard  that  the  small  people  of  whom  my  neigh- 
bors, the  Bretons,  tell  us  much,  abound  greatly  in  this 
fair  land  of  yours  ;  and  if  I  were  not  by  the  side  of  one 
whom  no  creature  unassoilzed  and  uubaptized  dare  ap- 
proach, by  sweet  St.  Yalery  I  should  say — yonder  stands 
one  of  those  same  gentilles  fees  f " 

King  Edward's  eye  followed  the  direction  of  his  com- 
panion's outstretched  hand,  and  his  quiet  brow  slightly 
contracted  as  he  beheld  the  young  form  of  Edith  stand- 
ing motionless  a  few  yards  before  him,  with  the  warm 
May  wind  lifting  and  playing  with  her  long  golden  locks. 
3* 


30  HAROLD. 

He  cheeked  his  palfrey,  and  murmured  some  Latin  words 
which  the  knight  beside  him  recognized  as  a  prayer,  and 
to  which,  doffing  his  cap,  he  added  an  Amen,  in  a  tone 
of  such  unctuous  gravity,  that  the  royal  saint  rewarded 
him  with  a  faint  approving  smile,  and  an  affectionate 
"Bene,  bene,  Piosissime.''^ 

Then,  inclining  his  palfrey's  head  towards  the  knoll, 
he  motioned  to  the  girl  to  approach  him.  Edith,  with  a 
heightened  color,  obeyed,  and  came  to  the  road-side. 
The  standard-bearers  halted,  as  did  the  king  and  his  com- 
rade— the  procession  behind  halted— thirty  knights,  two 
bishops,  eight  abbots,  all  on  fiery  steeds  and  in  Norman 
garb  —  squires  and  attendants  on  foot  —  a  long  and 
pompous  retinue  —  they  halted  all.  Only  a  stray  hound 
or  two  broke  from  the  rest,  and  wandered  into  the  forest 
land  with  heads  trailing. 

"Edith,  my  child,"  said  Edward,  still  in  Norman- 
French,  for  he  spoke  his  own  language  with  hesitation, 
and  the  Romance  tongue,  which  had  long  been  familiar 
to  the  higher  classes  in  England,  had,  since  his  accession, 
become  the  only  language  in  use  at  court,  and  as  such 
every  one  of  'Eorl-kind'  was  supposed  to  speak  it;  — 
"  Edith,  my  child,  thou  hast  not  forgotten  my  lessons,  I 
trow  ;  thou  singest  the  hymns  I  gave  thee,  and  neglectest 
not  to  wear  the  relic  round  thy  neck  ?" 

The  girl  hung  her  head,  and  spoke  not. 

"  How  comes  it,  then,"  continued  the  king,  with  a 
voice  to  which  he  in  vain  endeavored  to  impart  an  accent 
of  severity,  "how  comes  it,  O  little  one,  that  thon,  whose 


HAROLD.  31 

thoughts  should  be  lifted  already  above  this  carnal  world, 
and  eager  for  the  service  of  Mary  the  chaste  and  blessed, 
standest  thus  hoodless  and  alone  on  the  waysides,  a  mark 
for  the  eyes  of  men  ?  go  to,  it  is  naught." 

Thus  reproved,  and  in  presence  of  so  large  and  bril- 
liant a  company,  the  girl's  color  went  and  came,  her 
breast  heaved  high,  but  with  an  effort  beyond  her  age 
she  checked  her  tears,  and  said  meekly,  "  My  grandmother, 
Hilda,  bade  me  come  with  her,  and  I  came." 

"Hilda  ! "  said  the  king,  backing  his  palfrey  with  ap- 
parent perturbation,  "  but  Hilda  is  not  with  thee  ;  I  see 
her  not." 

As  he  spoke,  Hilda  rose,  and  so  suddenly  did  her  tall 
form  appear  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  that  it  seemed  as  if 
she  had  emerged  from  the  earth.  With  a  light  and  rapid 
stride  she  gained  the  side  of  her  grandchild ;  and  after 
a  slight  and  haughty  reverence,  said,  "  Hilda  is  here  ; 
what  wants  Edward  the  king  with  his  servant  Hilda  ? " 

''Nought,  nought,"  said  the  king,  hastily;  and  some- 
thing like  fear  passed  over  his  placid  countenance  ;  "  save, 
indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  reluctant  tone,  as  of  that  of  a 
man  who  obeys  his  conscience  against  his  inclination, 
"  that  I  would  pray  thee  to  keep  this  child  pure  to  thres- 
hold and  altar,  as  is  meet  for  one  whom  our  Lady,  the 
Yirgin,  in  due  time,  will  elect  to  her  service." 

"  Not  so,  son  of  Etheldred,  son  of  Woden,  the  last 
descendant  of  Penda  should  live,  not  to  glide  a  ghost 
amidst  cloisters,  but  to  rock  children  for  war  in  their 
father's  shield.     Few  men  are  there  vet  like  the  men  of 


32  HAROLD. 

old ;  and  while  the  foot  of  the  foreigner  is  on  the  Saxon 
soil,  no  branch  of  the  stem  of  Woden  should  be  nipped 
in  the  leaf." 

''Per  la  resplendar  De,*  bold  dame,"  cried  the  knight 
by  the  side  of  Edward,  while  a  lurid  flush  passed  over 
his  cheek  of  bronze  ;  "  but  thou  art  too  glib  of  tongue 
for  a  subject,  and  pratest  over-much  of  Woden  the  Paynim, 
for  the  lips  of  a  Christian  matron." 

Hilda  met  the  flashing  eye  of  the  knight  with  a  brow 
of  lofty  scorn,  on  which  still  a  certain  terror  was  visible. 

"  Child,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  upon  Edith's  fair 
locks ;  "  this  is  the  man  thou  shalt  see  but  twice  in  thy 
life: — look  up,   and  mark  well!" 

Edith  instinctively  raised  her  eyes,  and,  once  fixed  upon 
the  knight,  they  seemed  chained  as  by  a  spell  His  vest, 
of  a  craraoisay  so  dark,  that  it  seemed  black  beside  the 
snowy  garb  of  the  Confessor,  was  edged  by  a  deep  band 
of  embroidered  gold ;  leaving  perfectly  bare  his  firm,  full 
throat  —  firm  and  full  as  a  column  of  granite,  —  a  short 
jacket  or  manteline  of  fur,  pendent  from  the  shoulders, 
left  developed  in  all  its  breadth  a  breast,  that  seemed 
meet  to  stay  the  march  of  an  army ;  and  on  the  left  arm, 
curved  to  support  the  falcon,  the  vast  muscles  rose,  round 
and  gnarled,  through  the  close  sleeve. 

In  height,  he  was  really  but  little  above  the  stature  of 
many  of  those  present ;  nevertheless,  so  did  his  port,  his 
air,  the  nobility  of  his  large  proportions,  fill  the  eye,  that 
he  seemed  to  tower  immeasurably  above  the  rest. 

*  "By  the  splendoi'^of  God." 


HAROLD.  33 

His  countenance  was  yet  more  remarkable  than  his 
form  ;  still  in  the  prime  of  youth,  he  seemed  at  the  first 
glance  younger,  at  the  second  older,  than  he  was.  At 
the  first  glance  younger  ;  for  his  face  was  perfectly  shaven, 
without  even  the  moustache  which  the  Saxon  courtier,  in 
imitating  the  Xorman,  still  declined  to  surrender ;  and 
the  smooth  visage  and  bare  throat  sufficed  in  themselves 
to  give  the  air  of  youth  to  that  dominant  and  imperious 
presence.  His  small  skull-cap  left  unconcealed  his  fore- 
head, shaded  with  short  thick  hair,  uncurled,  but  black 
and  glossy  as  the  wings  of  a  raven.  It  was  on  that  fore- 
head that  time  had  set  its  trace ;  it  was  knit  into  a  frown 
over  the  eyebrows  ;  lines  deep  as  furrows  crossed  its 
broad,  but  not  elevated  expanse.  That  frown  spoke  of 
hasty  ire  and  the  habit  of  stern  command  ;  those  furrows 
spoke  of  deep  thought  and  plotting  scheme  :  the  one 
betrayed  but  temper  and  circumstance ;  the  other,  more, 
noble,  spoke  of  the  character  and  the  intellect.  The  face 
was  square,  and  the  regard  lion-like  ;  the  mouth — small, 
and  even  beautiful  in  outline  —  had  a  sinister  expression 
in  its  exceeding  firmness  ;  and  the  jaw — vast,  solid,  as  if 
bound  in  iron  —  showed  obstinate,  ruthless,  determined 
will  ;  sucli  a  jaw  as  belongs  to  the  tiger  amongst  beasts, 
and  the  conqueror  amongst  men  ;  such  as  it  is  seen  in 
the  effigies  of  Caesar,  of  Cortes,  of  Xapoleon. 

That  presence  was  well  calculated  to  command  the 
admiration  of  women,  not  less  than  the  awe  of  men. 
But  no  admiration  mingled  with  the  terror  that  seized  the 
girl  as   she   gazed  long  and  wistful   upon   the   knight, 

c 


34  HAROLD. 

The  fascination  of  the  serpent  on  the  bird  held  her  mute 
and  frozen.  Never  was  that  face  forgotten :  often  in 
after-life,  it  haunted  her  in  the  noonday,  it  frowned  upon 
her  dreanas. 

"  Fair  child,"  said  the  knight,  fatigued  at  length  by 
the  obstinacy  of  the  gaze,  while  that  smile  peculiar  to 
those  who  have  commanded  men  relaxed  his  brow,  and 
restored  the  native  beauty  to  his  lip,  "  fair  child,  learn 
not  from  thy  peevish  grandam  so  uucourteous  a  lesson  as 
hate  of  the  foreigner.  As  thou  growest  into  womanhood, 
know  that  Norman  knight  is  sworn  slave  to  lady  fair ; " 
and,  doffing  his  cap,  he  took  from  it  an  uncut  jewel,  set 
in  Byzantine  filagree  work.  "  Hold  out  thy  lap,  my  child  ; 
and  when  thou  hearest  the  foreigner  scoffed,  set  this 
bauble  in  thy  locks,  and  think  kindly  of  William,  Count 
of  the  Normans."  * 

He  dropped  the  jewel  on  the  ground  as  he  spoke  ;  for 
Edith,  shrinking  and  unsoftened  towards  him,  held  no  lap 
to  receive  it ;  and  Hilda,  to  whom  Edward  had  been 
speaking  in  a  low  voice,  advanced  to  the  spot  and  struck 
the  jewel  with  her  staff  under  the  hoofs  of  the  King's 
palfrey, 

"  Son  of  Emma,  the  Norman  woman,  who  sent  thy 

*  It  is  noticeable  that  the  Norman  dukes  did  not  call  themselves 
Counts  or  Dukes  of  Normandy,  but  of  the  Normans ;  and  the  first 
Anglo-Norman  kings,  till  Richard  the  First,  styled  themselves  Kings 
of  the  English,  not  of  England.  In  both  Saxon  and  Norman 
chronicles,  William  usually  bears  the  title  of  Count  (Comes),  but  iu 
this  tale  he  will  be  generally  called  Duke,  as  a  title  more  familiar 
to  us. 


HAROLD.  35 

youth  into  exile,  trample  ou  the  gifts  of  thy  Normau 
kinsman.  And  if,  as  men  say,  thou  art  of  such  gifted 
holiness  that  Heaven  grants  thy  hand  the  power  to  heal, 
and  thy  voice  the  power  to  curse,  heal  thy  country,  and 
curse  the  stranger  !  " 

She  extended  her  right  arm  to  William  as  she  spoke, 
and  such  was  the  dignity  of  her  passion,  and  such  its 
force,  that  an  awe  fell  upon  all.  Then  dropping  her  hood 
over  her  face,  she  slowly  turned  away,  regained  the  sum- 
mit of  the  knoll,  and  stood  erect  beside  the  altar  of  the 
Northern  god,  ber  face  invisible  through  the  hood  drawn 
completely  over  it,  and  her  form  motionless  as  a  statue. 

"  Ride  on,''  said  Edward,  crossing  himself. 

"Now  by  the  bones  of  St.  Yalery,"  said  William,  after 
a  pause,  in  which  his  dark  keen  eye  noted  the  gloom  upon 
the  King's  gentle  face,  "it  moves  much  my  simple  wonder 
how  even  presence  so  saintly  can  hear  without  wrath 
words  so  unleal  and  foul.  Gramercy,  'an  the  proudest 
dame  in  Normandy  (and  I  take  her  to  be  wife  to  my 
stoutest  baron,  William  Fitzosborne),  had  spoken  thus 
10  me " 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  done  as  I,  my  brother,"  interrupted 
Edward  ;  "  prayed  to  our  Lord  to  pardon  her,  and  rode 
on  pitying." 

William's  lip  quivered  with  ire,  yet  he  curbed  the  reply 
that  sprang  to  it,  and  he  looked  with  aflfection  genuinely 
more  akin  to  admiration  than  scorn,  upon  his  fellow  prince. 
For,  fierce  and  relentless  as  the  Duke's  deeds  were,  his 
faith  ?v'as  notably  sincere  ;  and  while  this  made,  indeed, 


36  HAROLD. 

the  princess  chief  attraction  to  the  pious  Edward,  so  on 
the  other  hand,  this  bowed  the  Duke  in  a  kind  of  involun- 
tary and  superstitious  homage  to  the  man  who  sought  to 
square  deeds  to  faith.  It  is  ever  the  case  with  stern  and 
stormy  spirits,  that  the  meek  ones  which  contrast  them 
steal  strangely  into  their  affections.  This  principle  of 
human  nature  can  alone  account  for  the  enthusiastic  de- 
votion which  the  mild  sufferings  of  the  Savior  awoke  in 
the  fiercest  exterminators  of  the  North.  In  proportion, 
often,  to  the  warrior's  ferocity,  was  his  love  to  that  Divine 
model,  at  whose  sufferings  he  wept,  to  whose  tomb  he 
wandered  barefoot,  and  whose  example  of  compassionate 
forgiveness  he  would  have  thought  himself  the  basest  of 
men  to  follow  I 

"  Now,  by  my  Halidame,  I  honor  and  love  thee,  Ed- 
ward," cried  the  Duke,  with  a  heartiness  more  frank  than 
was  usual  to  him  ;  "  and  were  I  thy  subject,  woe  to  man 
or  woman  that  wagged  tongue  to  wound  thee  by  a  breath. 
But  who  and  what  is  this  same  Hilda  ?  one  of  thy  kith 
and  kin  ? — surely  not  less  than  kingly  blood  runs  so  bold  ?" 

"William,  hien  aime,^^  *  said  the  King,  "it  is  true  that 
Hilda,  whom  the  saints  assoil,  is  of  kingly  blood,  though 
not  of  our  kingly  line.  It  is  feared,"  added  Edward,  in 
a  timid  whisper,  as  he  cast  a  hurried  glance  around  him, 
"  that  this  unhappy  woman  has  ever  been  more  addicted 

*  The  few  expressions  borrowed  occasionally  from  the  Romance 
tongue,  to  give  individuality  to  the  speaker,  will  generally  be  trans- 
lated into  modern  French  ;  for  the  same  reason  as  Saxon  is  rendered 
into  modern  English,  viz.  that  the  words  may  be  intelligible  to  the 
reader. 


HAROLD.  SI 

to  the  rites  of  her  pagan  ancestors  than  to  those  of  Holy 
Church  ;  and  men  do  say  that  she  hath  thus  acquired  from 
fiend  or  charm  secrets  devoutly  to  be  eschewed  by  the 
righteous.  Nathless,  let  us  rather  hope  that  her  mind  is 
somewhat  distraught  with  her  misfortunes." 

The  King  sighed,  and  the  Duke  sighed  too,  but  the 
Duke's  sigh  spoke  impatience.  He  swept  behind  him  a 
stern  and  withering  look  towards  the  proud  figure  of 
Hilda,  still  seen  through  the  glades,  and  said  in  a  sinister 
voice  :  "  Of  kingly  blood  ;  but  this  witch  of  Woden  hath 
no  sons  or  kinsmen,  I  trust,  to  pretend  to  the  throne  of 
the  Saxon?" 

"  She  is  sibbe  to  Githa  wife  of  Godwin,"  answered  the 
King,  "  and  that  is  her  most  perilous  connection  ;  for  the 
banished  Earl,  as  thou  knowest,  did  not  pretend  to  fill 
the  throne,  but  he  was  content  with  nought  less  than 
governing  our  people." 

The  King  then  proceeded  to  sketch  an  outline  of  the 
history  of  Hilda,  but  his  narrative  was  so  deformed  both 
by  his  superstitions  and  prejudices,  and  his  imperfect  in- 
formation in  all  the  leading  events  and  characters  in  his 
own  kingdom,  that  we  will  venture  to  take  upon  ourselves 
his  task  ;  and  while  the  train  ride  on  through  glade  and 
mead,  we  will  briefly  narrate,  from  our  own  special 
sources  of  knowledge,  the  chronicle  of  Hilda,  the  Scan- 
dinavian Yala. 


I. 


HAROLD. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A  MAGNIFICENT  race  of  men  were  those  war  sons  of  the 
old  North,  whom  our  popular  histories,  so  superficial  in 
their  accounts  of  this  age,  include  in  the  common  name 
of  the  "Danes."  They  replunged  into  barbarism  the 
nations  over  which  they  swept ;  but  from  that  barbarism 
they  reproduced  the  noblest  elements  of  civilization. 
Swede,  Norwegian,  and  Dane,  differing  in  some  minor 
points,  when  closely  examined,  had  yet  one  common 
character  viewed  at  a  distance.  They  had  the  same  pro- 
digious energy,  the  same  passion  for  freedom,  individual 
and  civil,  the  same  splendid  errors  in  the  thirst  for  fame 
and  the  "  point  of  honor ;  "  and  above  all,  as  a  main  cause 
of  civilization,  they  were  wonderfully  pliant  and  mallea- 
ble in  their  admixtures  with  the  people  they  overran. 
This  is  their  true  distinction  from  the  stubborn  Celt,  who 
refuses  to  mingle,  and  disdains  to  improve. 

Frankes,  the  archbishop,  baptized  Rolf-ganger ;  *  and 
within  a  little  more  than  a  century  afterwards,  the  de- 
scendants of  those  terrible  heathens,  who  had  spared 
neither  priest  or  altar,  were  the  most  redoubtable  de- 
fenders of  the  Christian  Church  ;  their  old  language  for- 
gotten (save  by  a  few  in  the   town   of  Bayeux),  their 

*  ''Homan  de  Rou,''  part  i.  v.  lOli. 


HAROLD.  39 

ancestral  names  *  (save  among  a  few  of  the  noblest"^, 
changed  into  French  titles,  and  little  else  but  the  in- 
domitable valor  of  the  Scandinavian  remained  unaltered 
amongst  the  arts  and  manners  of  the  Frankish-Xorman. 
In  like  manner  their  kindred  tribes,  who  had  poured 
into  Saxon  England,  to  ravage  and  lay  desolate,  had  no 
sooner  obtained  from  Alfred  the  Great  permanent  homes, 
than  they  became  perhaps  the  most  powerful  part  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  population. f  At  the  time  our  story  opens, 
these  Northmen,  under  the  common  name  of  Danes,  were 

*  The  reason  -why  the  Normans  lost  their  old  names  is  to  be 
found  in  their  conversion  to  Christianity.  They  were  baptized ; 
and  Franks,  as  their  godfathers,  gave  them  new  appellations.  Thus, 
Charles  the  Simple  insists  that  Rolf-ganger  shall  change  his  law 
(creed),  and  his  name,  and  Rolf  or  Rou  is  christened  Robert.  A 
few  of  those  who  retained  Scandinavian  names  at  the  time  of  the 
Conquest  will  be  cited  hereafter. 

f  Thus  in  991,  about  a  century  after  the  first  settlement,  the 
Danes  of  East  Anglia  gave  the  only  efficient  resistance  to  the  host 
of  the  Vikings  under  Justin  and  Gurthmund;  and  Brithnoth, 
celebrated  by  the  Saxon  poet,  as  a  Saxon,  "par  excellence  the  heroic 
defender  of  his  native  soil,  was,  in  all  probability,  of  Danish  de- 
scent. Mr.  Laing,  in  his  preface  to  his  translation  of  the  Eeim- 
skringla,  truly  observes,  "  that  the  rebellions  against  William  the 
Conqueror,  and  his  successors,  appear  to  have  been  almost  always 
raised,  or  mainly  supported,  in  the  counties  of  recent  Danish 
descent,  not  in  those  peopled  by  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  race." 

The  portion  of  Mercia,  consisting  of  the  burghs  of  Lancaster, 
Lincoln,  Nottingham,  Stamford,  and  Derby,  became  a  Danish  State 
in  A.  D.  877  ;  —  East  Anglia,  consisting  of  Cambridge,  SuflFolk,  Nor- 
folk, and  the  Isle  of  Ely,  in  a.  d.  879-80;  — and  the  vast  territory 
of  Northunibria,  extending  all  north  the  Humber,  into  all  that  part 
of  Scotland  south  of  the  Frith,  in  a.  d.  87G.  —  See  Palgrave's 
Commomcealth.  But,  beside  their  more  allotted  settlements,  the 
Danes  were  interspersed  as  land-owners  all  over  England. 


40  HAROLD. 

peaceably  settled  in  no  less  than  fifteen  *  counties  in 
England  ;  their  nobles  abounded  in  towns  and  cities  be- 
yond the  boundaries  of  those  counties  which  bore  the 
distinct  appellation  of  Danelagh.  They  were  numerous 
in  London  ;  in  the  precincts  of  which  they  had  their  own 
burial-place,  to  the  chief  municipal  court  of  which  they 
gave  their  own  appellation  —  the  Hustings. f  Their 
power  in  the  national  assembly  of  the  Witan  had  decided 
the  choice  of  kings.  Thus,  with  some  differences  of  law 
and  dialect,  these  once-turbulent  invaders  had  amalga- 
mated amicably  with  the  native  race.|  And  to  this  day, 
the  gentry,  traders,  and  farmers  of  more  than  one-third 
of  England,  and  in  those  counties  most  confessed  to  be 
in  the  van  of  improvement,  descend,  from  Saxon  mothers 
indeed,  but  from  Yiking  fathers.  There  was  in  reality 
little  difference  in  race  between  the  Norman  knight  of 
the  time  of  Henry  I.  and  the  Saxon  franklin  of  Norfolk 
and  York.  Both  on  the  mother's  side  would  most 
probably  have  been  Saxon,  both  on  the  father's  would 
have  traced  to  the  Scandinavian. 

*  Bromion  Chron. — viz.,  Essex,  Middlesex,  Suffolk,  Norfolk, 
Herts,  Cambridgeshire,  Hants,  Lincoln,  Notts,  Derby,  Northamp- 
ton, Leicestershire,  Bucks,  Beds,  and  the  vast  territory  called 
North  umbria. 

f  Palgrave's  History  of  England,  p.  315. 

X  The  laws  collected  by  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  in  later  times 
so  often  and  so  fondly  referred  to,  contain  many  introduced  by  the 
Danes,  which  had  grown  popular  with  the  Saxon  people.  Much 
which  we  ascribe  to  the  Norman  Conqueror,  pre-existed  in  the 
Anglo-Danish,  and  may  be  found  both  in  Noi-mandy,  and  parts  of 
Scandinavia,  to  this  day.  —  See  Hakewell's  Treatise  on  the  Anti" 
guity  of  Laics  in  this  Island,  in  Hearne's  Curious  Discourses. 


HAROLD.  41 

But  though  this  character  of  adaptability  was  general, 
exceptions  in  some  points  were  necessarily  found,  md 
these  were  obstinate  in  proportion  to  the  adherence  to 
the  old  pagan  faith,  or  the  sincere  conversion  to  Christi- 
anity. The  Norwegian  chronicles,  and  passages  in  our 
own  history,  show  how  false  and  hollow  was  the  assumed 
Christianity  of  many  of  those  fierce  Odin-worshippers. 
They  willingly  enough  accepted  the  outward  sign  of 
baptism,  but  the  holy  water  changed  little  of  the  inner 
man.  Even  Harold,  the  son  of  Canute,  scarce  seventeen 
years  before  the  date  we  have  now  entered,  being  unable 
to  obtain  from  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury — who  had 
espoused  the  cause  of  his  brother  Hardicanute — the  con- 
secrating benediction,  lived  and  reigned  as  one  "  who  had 
abjured  Christianity."* 

The  priests,  especially  on  the  Scandinavian  continent, 
were  often  forced  to  compound  with  their  grim  converts, 
by  indulgence  to  certain  habits,  such  as  indiscriminate 
polygamy.  To  eat  horse-flesh  in  honor  of  Odin,  and  to 
marry  wives  ad  libitum,  were  the  main  stipulations  of  the 
neophytes.  And  the  puzzled  monks,  often  driven  to  a 
choice,  yielded  the  point  of  the  wives,  but  stood  firm  on 
the  graver  article  of  the  horse-flesh. 

With  their  new  religion,  very  imperfectly  understood, 
even  when  genuinely  received,  they  retained  all  that  host 
of  heathen  superstition  which  knits  itself  with  the  most 
obstinate  instincts  in  the  human  breast.    Not  many  years 

*  Palgrave's  nistonj  of  England,  p.  322. 
4* 


42  HAROLD. 

before  the  reign  of  the  Confessor,  the  laws  of  the  great 
Canute  against  witchcraft  and  charms,  the  worship  of 
stones,  fountains,  runes  by  ash  and  elm,  and  the  incanta- 
tions that  do  homage  to  the  dead,  were  obviously  rather 
intended  to  apply  to  the  recent  Danish  converts,  than  to 
the  Anglo-Saxons,  already  subjugated  for  centuries,  body 
and  soul,  to  the  domination  of  the  Christian  monks. 

Hilda,  a  daughter  of  the  royalty  of  Denmark,  and 
cousin  to  Githa  (niece  to  Canute,  whom  that  king  had 
bestowed  in  second  spousals  upon  Godwin),  had  come 
over  to  England  with  a  fierce  Jarl,  her  husband,  a  year 
after  Canute's  accession  to  the  throne — both  converted 
nominally,  both  secretly  believers  in  Thor  and  Odin. 

Hilda's  husband  had  fallen  in  one  of  the  actions  in  the 
Northern  seas,  between  Canute  and  St.  Olave,  King  of 
Norway  (that  saint  himself,  by  the  bye,  a  most  ruthless 
persecutor  of  his  forefathers^  faith,  and  a  most  unqualified 
practical  asserter  of  his  heathen  privilege  to  extend  his 
domestic  affections  beyond  the  severe  pale  which  should 
have  confined  them  to  a  single  wife.  His  natural  son 
Magnus  then  sat  on  the  Danish  throne).  The  Jarl  died 
as  he  had  wished  to  die,  the  last  man  on  board  his  ship, 
with  the  soothing  conviction  that  the  Yalkyrs  would  bear 
him  to  Yalhalla. 

Hilda  was  left  with  an  only  daughter,  whom  Canute 
bestowed  on  Ethelwolf,  "a  Saxon  earl  of  large  domains, 
and  tracing  his  descent  from  Penda,  that  old  king  of 
Mercia  who  refused  to  be  converted,  but  said  so  discreetly, 
"  that  he  had  no  objection  to  his  neighbors  being  Chris- 


HAROLD.  43, 

tians,  if  they  would  practise  that  peace  and  forgiveness 
which  the  monks  told  him  were  the  elements  of  the  faith." 

Ethelwolf  fell  under  the  displeasure  of  Hardicanute, 
perhaps  because  he  was  more  Saxon  than  Danish  ;  and 
though  that  savage  king  did  not  dare  openly  to  arraign 
him  before  the  Witan,  he  gave  secret  orders  by  which  he 
was  butchered  on  his  own  hearth-stone,  in  the  arms  of  his 
wife,  who  died  shortly  afterwards  of  grief  and  terror. 
The  only  orphan  of  this  unhappy  pair,  Edith,  was  thus 
consigned  to  the  charge  of  Hilda. 

It  was  a  necessary  and  invaluable  characteristic  of  that 
"adaptability"  which  distinguished  the  Danes,  that  they 
transferred  to  the  land  in  which  they  settled  all  the  love 
they  had  borne  to  that  of  their  ancestors ;  and  so  far  as 
attachment  to  soil  was  concerned,  Hilda  had  grown  no 
less  in  heart  an  Englishwoman,  than  if  she  had  been  born 
and  reared  amidst  the  glades  and  knolls  from  which  the 
smoke  of  her  hearth  rose  through  the  old  Roman  cora- 
pluvium. 

But  in  all  else  she  was  a  Dane.  Dane  in  her  creed  and 
her  habits  —  Dane  in  her  intense  and  brooding  imagina- 
tion—  in  the  poetry  that  filled  her  soul,  peopled  the  air 
with  spectres,  and  covered  the  leaves  of  the  trees  with 
charms.  Living  in  austere  seclusion  after  the  death  of 
her  lord,  to  whom  she  had  borne  a  Scandinavian  woman's- 
devoted  but  heroic  love, — sorrowing  indeed  for  his  death, 
but  rejoicing  that  he  fell  amidst  the  feast  of  ravens, — her 
mind  settled  more  and  more,  year  by  year,  and  day  by 
day,  upon  those  visions  of  the  unknown  world,  which,  in 


44  HAROLD. 

every  faith,  conjure  up  the  companions  of  solitude  and 
grief. 

Witchcraft  in  the  Scandinavian  North  assumed  many 
forms,  and  was  connected  by  many  degrees.  There  was 
the  old  and  withered  hag,  on  whom,  in  our  later  mediaeval 
ages,  the  character  was  mainly  bestowed ;  there  was  the 
terrific  witch-wife,  or  wolf-witch,  who  seems  wholly  apart 
from  human  birth  and  attributes,  like  the  weird  sisters  of 
Macbeth — creatures  who  entered  the  house  at  night,  and 
seized  warriors  to  devour  them,  who  might  be  seen  gliding 
over  the  sea,  with  the  carcase  of  the  wolf  dripping  blood 
from  their  giant  jaws ;  and  there  was  the  more  serene, 
classical,  and  awful  vala,  or  sibyl,  who,  honored  by  chiefs 
and  revered  by  nations,  foretold  the  future,  and  advised 
the  deeds  of  heroes.  Of  these  last,  the  Norse  chronicles 
tell  us  much.  They  were  often  of  rank  and  wealth,  they 
were  accompanied  by  trains  of  handmaids  and  servants — 
kings  led  them  (when  their  counsel  was  sought)  to  the 
place  of  honor  in  the  hall — and  their  heads  were  sacred, 
as  those  of  ministers  to  the  gods. 

This  last  state  in  the  grisly  realm  of  the  Wig-lser 
(wizard-lore)  was  the  one  naturally  appertaining  to  the 
high  rank,  and  the  soul  lofty  though  blind  and  perverted, 
of  the  daughter  of  warrior-kings.  All  practice  of  the 
art  to  which  now  for  long  years  she  had  devoted  herself, 
that  touched  upon  the  humble  destinies  of  the  vulgar, 
the  child  of  Odin*  haughtily  disdained.     Her  reveries 


*  The  name  of  this  god  is  spelt  Odin,  when  referred  to  as  the 
object  of  Scandinavian  worship ;  Woden,  when  applied  directly  to 
the  deity  of  the  Saxons. 


HAROLD.  45 

were  upon  the  fate  of  kings  and  kingdoms ;  she  aspired 
to  save  or  to  rear  the  dynasties  which  should  rule  the 
races  yet  unborn.  In  youth  proud  and  ambitious,  — 
common  faults  with  her  countrywomen, — on  her  entrance 
into  the  darker  world,  she  carried  with  her  the  prejudices 
and  passions  that  she  had  known  in  that  colored  by  the 
external  sun. 

All  her  human  affections  were  centered  in  her  grand- 
child Edith,  the  last  of  a  race  royal  on  either  side.  Her 
researches  into  the  future  had  assured  her,  that  the  life 
and  death  of  this  fair  child  were  entwined  with  the  fates 
of  a  king,  and  the  same  oracles  had  intimated  a  myste- 
rious and  inseparable  connection  between  her  own  shat- 
tered house  and  the  flourishing  one  of  Earl  Godwin,  the 
spouse  of  her  kinswoman  Githa  ;  so  that  with  this  great 
family  she  was  intimately  bound  by  the  links  of  super- 
stition as  by  the  ties  of  blood.  The  eldest-born  of  God- 
win, Sweyn,  had  been  at  first  especially  her  care  and  her 
favorite  ;  and  he,  of  more  poetic  temperament  than  his 
brothers,  had  willingly  submitted  to  her  influence.  But 
of  all  the  brethren,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  the  career 
of  Sweyn  had  been  most  noxious  and  ill-omened,  and  at 
that  moment,  while  the  rest  of  the  house  carried  with  it 
into  exile  the  deep  and  indignant  sympathy  of  England, 
no  man  said  of  Sweyn,  "  God  bless  him  ! " 

But  as  the  second  son,  Harold,  had  grown  from  child- 
hood into  youth,  Hilda  had  singled  him  out  with  a  pre- 
ference even  more  marked  than  that  she  had  bestowed 
upon  Sweyn.     The  stars  and  the  runes  assured  her  of  his 


46  HAROLD 

future  greatness,  and  the  qualities  and  talents  of  the 
young  Earl  had,  at  the  very  onset  of  his  career,  eon 
firmed  the  accuracy  of  their  predictions.  Her  interest  in 
Harold  became  the  more  intense,  partly  because  whenever 
she  consulted  the  future  for  the  lot  of  her  grandchild 
Edith,  she  invariably  found  it  associated  with  the  fate  of 
Harold  —  partly  because  all  her  arts  had  failed  to  pene- 
trate beyond  a  certain  point  of  their  joint  destinies,  and 
left  her  mind  agitated  and  perplexed  between  hope  and 
terror.  As  yet,  however,  she  had  wholly  failed  in  gain- 
ing any  ascendency  over  the  young  Earl's  vigorous  and 
healthful  mind  ;  and  though  before  his  exile,  he  came 
more  often  than  any  of  Godwin's  sons  to  the  old  Roman 
house,  he  had  smiled  with  proud  incredulity  at  her  vague 
prophecies,  and  rejected  all  her  offers  of  aid  from  invisi- 
ble agencies  with  the  calm  reply — "The  brave  man  wants 
no  charms  to  encourage  him  to  his  duty,  and  the  good 
man  scorns  all  warnings  that  would  deter  him  from  ful- 
filling it." 

Indeed,  though  Hilda's  magic  was  not  of  the  malevo- 
lent kind,  and  sought  the  source  of  its  oracles  not  in 
fiends  but  gods  (at  least  the  gods  in  whom  she  believed) 
it  was  noticeable  that  all  over  whom  her  influence  had 
prevailed  had  come  to  miserable  and  untimely  ends ;  — 
not  alone  her  husband  and  her  son-in-law  (both  of  whom 
had  been  as  wax  to  her  counsel),  but  such  other  chiefs  as 
rank  or  ambition  permitted  to  appeal  to  her  lore.  Ne- 
vertheless, such  was  the  ascendency  she  had  gained  over 
the  popular  mind,  that  it  would  have  been  dangerous  ia 


HAROLD.  47 

the  highest  degree  to  put  into  execution  against  her  the 
laws  condemnatory  of  witchcraft.  In  her,  all  the  more 
powerful  Danish  families  reverenced,  and  would  have 
protected,  the  blood  of  their  ancient  kings,  and  the  widow 
of  one  of  their  most  renowned  heroes.  Hospitable,  liberal, 
and  beneficent  to  the  poor,  and  an  easy  mistress  over 
numerous  ceorls,  while  the  vulgar  dreaded,  they  would 
yet  have  defended  her.  Proofs  of  her  art  it  would  have 
been  hard  to  establish  ;  hosts  of  compurgators  to  attest 
her  innocence  would  have  sprung  up.  Even  if  subjected 
to  the  ordeal,  her  gold  could  easily  have  bribed  the  priests 
with  whom  the  power  of  evading  its  dangers  rested.  And 
with  that  worldly  wisdom  which  persons  of  genius  in  their 
wildest  chimeras  rarely  lack,  she  had  already  freed  her- 
self from  the  chance  of  active  persecution  from  the 
Church,  by  ample  donations  to  all  the  neighboring  mo- 
nasteries. 

Hilda,  in  fine,  was  a  woman  of  sublime  desires  and 
extraordinary  gifts  ;  terrible,  indeed,  but  as  the  passive 
agent  of  the  Fates  she  invoked,  and  rather  commanding 
for  herself  a  certain  troubled  admiration,  and  mysterious 
pity ;  no  fiend-hag,  beyond  humanity,  in  malice  and  in 
power,  but  essentially  human,  even  when  aspiring  most 
to  the  secrets  of  a  god.  Assuming,  for  the  moment,  that 
by  the  aid  of  intense  imagination,  persons  of  a  peculiar 
idiosyncrasy  of  nerves  and  temperament  might  attain  to 
such  dim  affinities  with  a  world  beyond  our  ordinary 
senses,  as  forbid  entire  rejection  of  the  magnetism  and 
magic  of  old  times — it  was  on  no  foul  and  mephitic  pool, 


48  HAROLD. 

overhung  with  the  poisonous  night-shade,  and  excluded 
fi'om  the  beams  of  heaven,  but  on  the  living  stream  on 
which  the  star  trembled,  and  beside  whose  banks  the 
green  herbage  waved,  that  the  demon  shadows  fell  dark 
and  dread. 

Thus  safe  and  thus  awful,  lived  Hilda ;  and  under  her 
care,  a  rose  beneath  the  funereal  cedar,  bloomed  her 
grandchild  Edith,  goddaughter  of  the  Lady  of  England. 

It  was  the  anxious  wish,  both  of  Edward  and  his  virgin 
wife,  pious  as  himself,  to  save  this  orphan  from  the  con- 
tamination of  a  house  more  than  suspected  of  heathen 
faith,  and  give  to  her  youth  the  refuge  of  the  convent. 
But  this,  without  her  guardian's  consent  or  her  own  ex- 
pressed will,  could  not  be  legally  done  ;  and  Edith  as  yet 
had  expressed  no  desire  to  disobey  her  grandmother,  who 
treated  the  idea  of  the  convent  with  lofty  scorn. 

This  beautiful  child  grew  up  under  the  influence,  as  it 
were,  of  two  contending  creeds ;  all  her  notions  on  both 
were  necessarily  confused  and  vague.  But  her  heart  was 
so  genuinely  mild,  simple,  tender,  and  devoted,  —  there 
was  in  her  so  much  of  the  inborn  excellence  of  the  sex, 
that  in  every  impulse  of  that  heart  struggled  for  clearer 
light  and  for  purer  air  the  unquiet  soul.  In  manner,  in 
thought,  and  in  person,  as  yet  almost  an  infant,  deep  in 
her  heart  lay  yet  one  woman's  secret,  known  scarcely  to 
herself,  but  which  taught  her,  more  powerfully  than  Hilda's 
proud  and  scoffing  tongue,  to  shudder  at  the  thought  of 
the  barren  cloister  and  the  eternal  vow. 


HAROLD.  49 


CHAPTER   III. 

While  King  Edward  was  narrating  to  the  Norman 
Duke  all  that  he  knew,  and  all  that  he  knew  not,  of 
Hilda's  history  and  secret  arts,  the  road  wound  through 
lauds  as  wild  and  wold-like  as  if  the  metropolis  of  Eng- 
land lay  a  hundred  miles  distant.  Even  to  this  day, 
patches  of  such  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  Norwood, 
may  betray  what  the  country  was  in  the  old  time  : — when 
a  mighty  forest,  '  abounding  with  wild  beasts' — '  the  bull 
and  the  boar' —  skirted  the  suburbs  of  London,  and  af- 
forded pastime  to  king  and  thegn.  For  the  Norman  kings 
hare  been  maligned  by  the  popular  notion,  that  assigns 
to  them  all  the  odium  of  the  forest  laws.  Harsh  and 
severe  were  those  laws  in  the  reign  of  the  Anglo-Saxon ; 
as  harsh  and  severe,  perhaps,  against  the  ceorl  and  the 
poor  man,  as  in  the  days  of  Rufus,  though  more  mild 
unquestionably  to  the  nobles.  To  all  beneath  the  rank 
of  abbot  and  thegn,  the  king's  woods  were  made,  even 
by  the  mild  Confessor,  as  sacred  as  the  groves  of  the 
Druids  :  and  no  less  penalty  than  loss  of  life  was  incurred 
by  the  low-born  huntsman  who  violated  their  recesses. 

Edward's  only  mundane  passion  was  the  chase  ;  and  a 
day  rarely  passed,  but  what  after  mass  he  went  forth  with 
hawk  or  hound.     So  that,  though  the  regular  season  for 

I. —5  E 


50  HAROLD. 

hawking  did  not  commence  till  October,  he  had  ever  on 
his  wrist  some  young  falcon  to  essay,  or  some  old  favorite 
to  exercise.  And  now,  just  as  William  was  beginning  to 
grow  weary  of  his  good  cousin's  prolix  recitals,  the  hounds 
suddenly  gave  tongue,  and  from  a  sedge-grown  pool  by 
the  way-side,  with  solemn  wing  and  harsh  boom,  rose  a 
bittern. 

"  Holy  St.  Peter  !  "  exclaimed  the  Saint  king,  spurring 
his  palfrey,  and  loosing  his  famous  Peregrine  falcon.* 
William  was  not  slow  in  following  that  animated  exam- 
ple, and  the  whole  company  rode  at  half  speed  across 
the  rough  forest-land,  straining  their  eyes  upon  the  soar- 
ing quarry,  and  the  large  wheels  of  the  falcons.  Riding 
thus,  with  his  eyes  in  the  air,  Edward  was  nearly  pitched 
over  his  palfrey's  head,  as  the  animal  stopped  suddenly, 
checked  by  a  high  gate,  set  deep  in  a  half-embattled  wall 
of  brick  and  rubble.  Upon  this  gate  sat,  quite  unmoved 
and  apathetic,  a  tall  ceorl,  or  laborer,  while  behind  it  was 
a  gazing  curious  group  of  men  of  the  same  rank,  clad  in 
those  blue  tunics  of  which  our  peasant's  smock  is  the 
successor,  and  leaning  on  scythes  and  flails.  Sour  and 
ominous  were  the  looks  they  bent  upon  that  Norman 
cavalcade.  The  men  were  at  least  as  well  clad  as  those 
of  the  same  condition  are  now  ;  and  their  robust  limbs 
and  ruddy  cheeks  showed  no  lack  of  the  fare  that  sup- 
ports labor.    Indeed,  the  working-man  of  that  day,  if  not 


*  The  Pere<};rine  hawk  built  on  the  rocks  of  Llandudno,  and  thia 
breed  was  celebrated,  even  to  the  days  of  Elizaleth.  Burleigh 
thanks  one  of  the  Mostyns  for  a  cast  of  hawks  from  Llandudno. 


HAROLD.  51 

one  of  the  absolute  theowes,  or  slaves,  was,  physically 
{speaking,  better  oflF,  perhaps,  than  he  has  ever  since  been 
in  England,  more  especially  if  he  appertained  to  some 
wealthy  thegn  of  pure  Saxon  lineage,  whose  very  title  of 
lord  came  to  him  in  his  quality  of  dispenser  of  bread  ;  * 
and  these  men  had  been  ceorls  under  Harold,  son  of  God- 
win, now  banished  from  the  land. 

"  Open  the  gate,  open  quick,  my  merry  men,"  said  the 
gentle  Edward  (speaking  in  Saxon,  though  with  a  strong 
foreign  accent),  after  he  had  recovered  his  seat,  murmured 
a  benediction,  and  crossed  himself  three  times.  The  men 
stirred  not. 

"  No  horse  tramps  the  seeds  we  have  sown  for  Harold 
the  Earl  to  reap  ;  "  said  the  ceorl  doggedly,  still  seated 
on  the  gate.  And  the  group  behind  him  gave  a  shout 
of  applause. 

Moved  more  than  ever  he  had  been  known  to  be  be- 
fore, Edward  spurred  his  steed  up  to  the  boor,  and  lifted 
his  hand.  At  that  signal,  twenty  swords  flashed  in  the 
air  behind,  as  the  Xorman  nobles  spurred  to  the  place. 
Putting  back  with  one  hand  his  fierce  attendants,  Edward 
shook  the  other  at  the  Saxon.  "  Knave,  knave,"  he  cried, 
"I  would  hurt  you,  if  I  could  !  " 

There  was  something  in  these  words,  fated  to  drift 
down  into  history,  at  once  ludicrous  and  touching.  The 
Normans  saw  them  only  in  the  former  light,  and  turned 

*  Hlaf,  loaf,  —  Hlaford,  lord,  giver  of  bread;  Hleafdian,  lady, 
server  of  bread.  —  Verstegan. 


r»'2 


HAROLD. 


aside  to  conceal  their  laughter ;  the  Saxon  felt  them  in 
the  latter  and  truer  sense,  and  stood  rebuked.  That 
great  king,  whom  he  now  recognized,  with  all  those 
drawn  swords  at  his  back,  could  not  do  him  hurt;  that 
king  had  not  the  heart  to  hurt  him.  The  ceorl  sprang 
from  the  gate,  and  opened  it,  bending  low. 

"  Ride  first.  Count  William,  my  cousin,"  said  the  king, 
calmly. 

The  Saxon  ceorPs  eyes  glared  as  he  heard  the  Nor- 
man's name  uttered  in  the  Norman  tongue,  but  he  kept 
open  the  gate,  and  the  train  passed  through,  Edward 
lingering  last.     Then  said  the  king,  in  a  low  voice,  — 

"Bold  man,  thou  spokest  of  Harold  the  Earl  and  his 
harvests ;  knowest  thou  not  that  his  lands  have  passed 
from  him,  and  that  he  is  outlawed,  and  his  harvests  are 
not  for  the  scythes  of  his  ceorls  to  reap  ?  " 

"  May  it  please  you,  dread  Lord  and  King,"  replied 
the  Saxon,  simply,  "  these  lands  that  were  Harold  the 
Earl's,  are  now  Clapa's,  the  sixhtendman's." 

"How  is  that?"  quoth  Edward,  hastily;  "we  gave 
them  neither  to  sixhaendman  nor  to  Saxon.  All  the 
lands  of  Harold  hereabout  were  divided  amongst  sacred 
abbots  and  noble  chevaliers  —  Normans  all." 

"  Fulke  the  Norman  had  these  fair  fields,  yon  orchards 
and  tynen  ;  Fulke  sold  them  to  Clapa,  the  Earl's  sixhaend- 
man, and  what  in  mancusses  and  pence  Clapa  lacked  of 
the  price,  we,  the  ceorls  of  the  Earl,  made  up  from  our 
own  earnings  in  the  Earl's  noble  service.    And  this  very 


HAROLD.  53 

day,  in  token  thereof,  have  we  quaffed  the  bedden-ale.* 
AVherefore,  please  God  and  our  Lady,  we  hold  these 
lands  part  and  parcel  with  Clapa  ;  and  when  Earl  Harold 
comes  again,  as  come  he  will,  here  at  least  he  will  have 
his  own." 

Edward,  who,  despite  a  singular  simplicity  of  character, 
which  at  times  seemed  to  border  on  imbecility,  was  by  no 
means  wanting  in  penetration  when  his  attention  was 
fairly  roused,  changed  countenance  at  this  proof  of  rough 
and  homely  affection  on  the  part  of  these  men  to  his 
banished  earl  and  brother-in-law.  He  mused  a  little 
while  in  grave  thought,  and  then  said,  kindly  — 

"  Well,  man,  I  think  not  the.  worse  of  you  for  loyal 
love  to  your  thegn,  but  there  are  those  who  would  do  so, 
and  I  advise  you,  brother-like,  that  ears  and  nose  are  in 
peril  if  thou  talkest  thus  indiscreetly." 

"  Steel  to  steel,  and  hand  to  hand,"  said  the  Saxon, 
bluntly,  touching  the  long  kuife  in  his  leathern  belt,  "  and 
he  who  sets  gripe  on  Sexwolf,  son  of  Elf  helm,  shall  pay 
his  weregeld  twice  over." 

"Forewarned,  foolish  man,  thou  art  forewarned. 
Peace,"  said  the  king ;  and,  shaking  his  head,  he  rode 
on  to  join  the  Normans,  who  now,  in  a  broad  field,  where 
the  corn  sprang  green,  and  which  they  seemed  to  delight 
in  wantonly  trampling,  as  they  curveted  their  steeds  to 

*  Bedden-ale.  When  any  man  was  set  up  in  his  estate  by  the 
contributions  of  his  friends,  those  friends  were  bid  to  a  feast,  and 
the  ale  so  drunk  was  called  the  bedden-ale.  from  bedden,  to  pray, 
or  to  bid.  —  (See  Rranp's  Pop.  Anfig.) 

5* 


54  HAROLD, 

and  fro,  watched  the  movements  of  the  bittern  and  the 
pursuit  of  the  two  falcons. 

"A  wager,  Lord  King !  "  said  a  prelate,  whose  strong 
family  likeness  to  William  proclaimed  him  to  be  the  duke's 
bold  and  haughty  brother,  Odo,*  Bishop  of  Bayeux ;  — 
"  a  wager.  My  steed  to  your  palfrey  that  the  duke's 
falcon  first  fixes  the  bittern." 

"  Holy  father,"  answered  Edward,  in  that  slight  change 
of  voice  which  alone  showed  his  displeasure,  "  these  wagers 
all  savor  of  heathenesse,  and  our  canons  forbid  them  to 
monef  and  priest.     Go  to,  it  is  naught." 

The  bishop,  who  brooked  no  rebuke,  even  from  his 
terrible  brother,  knit  his  brows,  and  was  about  to  make 
no  gentle  rejoinder,  when  William,  whose  profound  craft 
or  sagacity  was  always  at  watch,  lest  his  followers  should 
displease  the  king,  interposed,  and,  taking  the  word  out 
of  the  prelate's  mouth,  said  — 

"  Thou  reprovest  us  well,  sir  and  king ;  we  Normans 
are  too  inclined  to  such  levities.  And  see,  your  falcon  is 
first  in  pride  of  place.  By  the  bones  of  St.  Valery,  how 
nobly  he  towers  I  See  him  cover  the  bittern  1  —  see  him 
rest  on  the  wing  1     Down  he  swoops  I     Gallant  bird  I " 

"  With  his  heart  split  in  two  on  the  bittern's  bill,"  said 
the  bishop  ;  and  down,  rolling  one  over  the  other,  fell 
bittern  and  hawk,  while  William's  Norway  falcon,  smaller 

*  Herleve  (Arlotta),  William's  mother,  married  Herluin  de  Con- 
teville,  after  the  death  of  Duke  Robert,  and  had  by  him  two  sons, 
Robert  Count  of  Mortain,  and  Odo,  Bishop  of  Bayeux. — Ord. 
Vital,  lib.  vii. 

f  Mone,  monk. 


HAROLD.  55 

of  size  than  the  king's,  descended  rapidly,  and  hovered 
over  the  two.     Both  were  dead. 

"  I  accept  the  omen,"  muttered  the  gazing  duke  ;  "  let 
the  natives  destroy  each  other  ! "  He  placed  his  whistle 
to  his  lips,  and  his  falcon  flew  back  to  his  wrist. 

"Now  home,"  said  King  Edward. 


CHAPTER   lY. 

The  royal  party  entered  London  by  the  great  bridge 
which  divided  Southwark  from  the  capital ;  and  we  must 
pause  to  gaze  a  moment  on  the  animated  scene  which  the 
immemorial  thoroughfare  presented. 

The  whole  suburb  before  entering  Southwark  was  rich 
in  orchards  and  gardens,  lying  round  the  detached  houses 
of  the  wealthier  merchants  and  citizens.  Approaching 
the  river-side  to  the  left,  the  eye  might  see  the  two  cir- 
cular spaces  set  apart,  the  one  for  bear,  the  other  for 
bull-baiting.  To  the  right,  upon  a  green  mound  of  waste, 
within  sight  of  the  populous  bridge,  the  glee-men  were 
exercising  their  art.  Here  one  dexterous  juggler  threw 
three  balls  and  three  knives  alternately  in  the  air,  catch- 
ing them  one  by  one  as  they  fell.*  There,  another  was 
gravely  leading  a  great  bear  to  dance  on  its  hind  legs, 
while  his  coadjutor  kept  time  with  a  sort  of  flute  or 
flageolet.     The   lazy   by-standers,    in    great   concourse, 

*  Strutt's  Horda. 


5G  HAROLD. 

stared  and  laughed  ;  but  the  laugh  was  hushed  at  the 
tramp  of  the  Norman  steeds  ;  and  the  famous  count  by 
the  king's  side,  as,  with  a  smiling  lip,  but  observant  eye, 
he  rode  along,  drew  all  attention  from  the  bear. 

On  now  approaching  that  bridge,  which,  not  many 
years  before,  had  been  the  scene  of  terrible  contest  be- 
tween the  invading  Danes  and  Ethelred's  ally,  Olave  of 
Norway,*  you  might  still  see,  though  neglected  and 
already  in  decay,  the  double  fortifications  that  had  wisely 
guarded  that  vista  into  the  city.  On  both  sides  of  the 
bridge,  which  was  of  wood,  were  forts,  partly  of  timber, 
partly  of  stone,  and  breast-works,  and  by  the  forts  a 
little  chapel.  The  bridge,  broad  enough  to  admit  two 
vehicles  abreast, f  was  crowded  with  passengers,  and  lively 
with  stalls  and  booths.  Here  was  the  favorite  spot  of 
the  popular  ballad-singer. J  Here  too,  might  be  seen 
the  swarthy  Saracen,  with  wares  from  Spain  and  Afric.§ 

*  There  is  an  animated  description  of  this  ''  Battle  of  London 
Bridge,"  which  gave  ample  theme  to  the  Scandinavian  scalds,  in 
Snorro  Sturleson :  — 

"London  Bridge  is  broken  down; 
Gold  is  won  and  bright  renown ; 
Shields  resounding, 
War  horns  sounding, 
Hildur  shouting  in  the  din, 
Arrows  singing, 
Mail-coats  ringing, 
Odin  makes  our  Olaf  win." 

Laing's  Heimskringla,  vol.  ii.  p.  10. 
f  Sharon  Turner.  J  Hawkins,  vol.  ii.  p.  94. 

§  Doomsday  makes.mention  of  the  Moors,  and  the  Germans  (the 
Emperor's  merchants)  thftt  were  sojourners  or  settlers,  in  London, 


HAROLD.  57 

Here,  the  German  merchant  from  the  Steel-yard  swept 
along  on  his  way  to  his  suburban  home.  Here,  on  some 
holy  office,  went  quick  the  muffled  monk.  Here  the  city 
gallant  paused  to  laugh  with  the  country  girl,  her  basket 
full  of  May-boughs  and  cowslips.  In  short,  all  bespoke 
that  activity,  whether  in  business  or  pastime,  which  was 
destined  to  render  that  city  the  mart  of  the  world,  and 
which  had  already  knit  the  trade  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  to 
the  remoter  corners  of  commercial  Europe.  The  deep 
dark  eye  of  William  dwelt  admiringly  on  the  bustling 
groups,  on  the  broad  river,  and  the  forest  of  masts  which 
rose  by  the  indented  marge  near  Belin's  Gate.*  And  he 
to  whom,  whatever  his  faults,  or  rather  crimes,  to  the  un- 
fortunate people  he  not  only  oppressed  but  deceived  — 
London  at  least  may  yet  be  grateful,  not  only  for  chartered 
franchise,^  but  for  advancing,  in  one  short  vigorous  reign, 

The  Saracens  at  that  time  ■n'ere  among  the  great  merchants  of  the 
world ;  Marseilles,  Aries,  Avignon,  Montpellier,  Toulouse,  were 
the  wonted  eiapes  of  their  active  traders.  What  civilizers,  what 
teachers  they  were — those  same  Saracens!  How  much  in  arms 
and  in  arts  we  owe  them !  Fathers  of  the  Proven9al  poetry,  they, 
far  more  than  even  the  Scandinavian  scalds,  have  influenced  the 
literature  of  Christian  Europe.  The  most  ancient  chronicle  of  the 
Cid  was  written  in  Arabic,  a  little  before  the  Cid's  death  by  two 
of  his  pages,  who  were  Mussulmans.  The  medical  science  of  the 
Moors  for  six  centuries  enlightened  Europe,  and  their  metaphysics 
were  adopted  in  nearly  all  the  Christian  universities. 

*  Billingsgate. 

f  London  received  a  charter  from  William  at  the  instigation  of 
the  Norman  Bishop  of  London;  but  it  probably  only  confirmed  the 
previous  municipal  constitution,  since  it  says  briefly,  "I  grant  you 
all  to  be  as  law-worthy  as  ye  were  in  the  days  of  King  Edward." 
The  rapid  increase,  however,  of  the  commercial  prosperity  and 


58  HAROLD. 

her  commerce  and  wealth,  beyond  what  centuries  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  domination,  with  its  inherent  feebleness,  had 
effected,  exclaimed  aloud :  — 

"By  rood  and  mass,  0  dear  king,  thy  lot  hath  fallen 
on  a  goodly  heritage  ! " 

"  Hem  I  "  said  Edward,  lazily  ;  "  thou  knowest  not 
how  troublesome  these  Saxons  are.  And  while  tjiou 
speakest,  lo  !  in  yon  shattered  walls,  built  first,  they  say, 
by  Alfred,  of  holy  memory,  are  the  evidences  of  the 
Danes.  Bethink  thee  how  often  they  have  sailed  up  this 
river.  How  know  I  but  what  the  next  year  the  raven 
flag  may  stream  over  these  waters  ?  Magnus  of  Den- 
mark hath  already  claimed  my  crown  as  heir  to  the 
royalties  of  Canute,  and  "  (here  Edward  hesitated)  "  God- 
win and  Harold,  whom  alone  of  my  thegns,  Dane  and 
Northman  fear,  are  far  away." 

"  Miss  not  them,  Edward,  my  cousin,"  cried  the  duke, 
in  haste.  "  Send  for  me,  if  danger  threat  thee.  Ships 
enow  await  thy  hest  in  my  new  port  of  Cherbourg.  And 
I  tell  thee  this  for  thy  comfort,  that  were  I  king  of  the 
English,  and  lord  of  this  river,  the  citizens  of  London 
might  sleep  from  vespers  to  prime,  without  fear  of  the 
Dane.  Never  again  should  the  raven  flag  be  seen  by 
this  bridge  I  Never,  I  swear,  by  the  Splendor  Divine  I " 

Not  without  purpose  spoke  William  thus  stoutly ;  and 
he  turned  on  the  king   those  glittering  eyes  (micantes 

political  importance  of  London  after  the  Conquest,  is  attested  in 
many  chronicles,  and  becomes  strikingly  evident  even  on  the  sur- 
face of  history. 


HAROLD.  59 

oculos),  which  the  chroniclers  have  praised  and  noted. 
For  it  was  his  hope  and  his  aim  in  this  visit,  that  his 
cousin  Edward  should  formally  promise  him  that  goodly- 
heritage  of  England.  But  the  king  made  no  rejoinder, 
and  they  now  neared  the  end  of  the  bridge. 

"What  old  ruin  looms  yonder?"*  asked  "William, 
hiding  his  disappointment  at  Edward's  silence  ;  "  it  seem- 
eth  the  remains  of  some  stately  keape,  which,  by  its 
fashion,  I  should  pronounce  Roman." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Edward,  "It  is  said  to  have  been  built  by 
the  Romans  ;  and  one  of  the  old  Lombard  freemasons 
employed  on  my  new  palace  of  Westminster,  giveth  that, 
and  some  others  in  my  domain,  the  name  of  the  Juillet 
Tower." 

"  Those  Romans  were  our  masters  in  all  things  gallant 
and  wise,"  said  William  ;  "  and  I  predict  that,  some  day 
or  other,  on  this  site,  a  king  of  England  will  re-erect 
palace  and  tower.     And  yon  castle  towards  the  west  ? " 

"Is  the  Tower  Palatine,  where  our  predecessors  have 
lodged,  and  ourself  sometimes  ;  but  the  sweet  loneliness 
of  Thorney  Isle,  pleaseth  me  more  now." 

*  There  seemed  good  reason  for  believing  that  a  keep  did  stand 
where  the  Tower  stands,  before  the  Conquest,  and  that  William's 
edifice  spared  some  of  its  remains.  In  the  very  interesting  letter 
from  John  Bayford  relating  to  the  city  of  London,  (Lei.  Collect. 
Iviii.),  the  writer,  a  thorough  master  of  his  subject,  states,  that 
"the  Romans  made  a  public  military  way,  that  of  Watling  Street, 
from  the  Tower  to  Ludgate,  in  a  straight  line,  at  the  end  of  which 
they  built  stations  or  citadels,  one  of  which  was  where  the  White 
Tower  now  stands."  Bayford  adds  that  "when  the  White  Tower 
was  fitted  up  for  the  reception  of  records,  there  remained  many 
Saxon  inscriptions." 


60  HAROLD 

Thus  talking,  they  entered  London,  a  rude,  dark  city, 
built  mainly  of  timbered  houses ;  streets  narrow  and 
winding  ;  windows  rarely  glazed,  but  protected  chiefly  by 
linen  blinds  ;  vistas  opening,  however,  at  times  into  broad 
spaces,  round  the  various  convents,  where  green  trees 
grew  up  behind  low  palisades.  Tall  roods,  and  holy 
images,  to  which  we  owe  the  names  of  existing  thorough- 
fares (Rood-lane  and  Lady-lane*),  where  the  ways 
crossed,  attracted  the  curious,  and  detained  the  pious. 
Spires  there  were  not  then,  but  blunt  cone-headed  turrets, 
pyramidal,  denoting  the  Houses  of  God,  rose  often  from 
the  low,  thatched,  and  reeded  roofs.  But  every  now  and 
then,  a  scholar's,  if  not  an  ordinary  eye,  could  behold  the 
relics  of  Roman  splendor,  traces  of  that  elder  city  which 
now  lies  buried  under  our  thoroughfares,  and  of  which, 
year  by  year,  are  dug  up  the  stately  skeletons. 

Along  the  Thames  still  rose,  though  much  mutilated, 
the  wall  of  Constantine.f  Round  the  humble  and  bar- 
barous church  of  St.  Paul's  (wherein  lay  the  dust  of 
Sebba,  that  king  of  the  East  Saxons  who  quitted  his 
throne  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  and  of  Edward's  feeble  and 
luckless  father,  Ethelred),  might  be  seen,  still  gigantic  in 
decay,  the  ruins  of  the  vast  temple  of  Diana.  J  Many  a 
church,  and  many  a  convent,  pierced  their  mingled  brick 
and  timber  work  with  Roman  capital  and  shaft.  Still, 
by  the  tower,  to  which  was  afterwards  given  the  Saracen 
name  of  Barbican,  were  the  wrecks  of  the  Roman  station, 

•*  Rmle-lane.     Lad-lane.  —  Bayford.  f  Fitzstephen, 

X  Camden. 


HAROLD.  61 

where  cohorts  watched  night  and  day,  in  case  of  fire 
within  or  foe  without.* 

In  a  niche,  near  the  Aldersgate,  stood  the  headless 
statue  of  Fortitude,  which  monks  and  pilgrims  deemed 
some  unknown  saint  in  the  old  time,  and  halted  to  honor. 
And  in  the  midst  of  Bishopsgate  Street,  sat  on  his  dese- 
crated throne  a  mangled  Jupiter,  his  eagle  at  his  feet. 
Many  a  half-converted  Dane  there  lingered,  and  mistook 
the  Thunderer  and  the  bird  for  Odin  and  his  hawk  By 
Leod-gate  (the  People's  gate  f)  still  too  were  seen  the 
arches  of  one  of  those  mighty  aqueducts  w^hich  the  Roman 
learned  from  the  Etrurian.  And  close  by  the  still-yard, 
occupied  by  "the  Emperor's  cheap  men"  (the  German 
merchants),  stood,  almost  entire,  the  Roman  temple,  ex- 
taut  in  the  time  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.  Without  the 
Walls,  the  old  Roman  vineyards  still  put  forth  their  green 
leaves  and  crude  clusters,  in  the  plains  of  East  Smith- 
field,  in  the  fields  of  St.  Giles's,  and  on  the  site  where 
now  stands  Hatton  Garden.  Still  massere  J  and  cheap- 
men  chaffered  and  bargained,  at  booth  and  stall,  in  Mart 
Lane,  where  the  Romans  had  bartered  before  them.  With 
every  encroachment  on  new  soil,  within  the  walls  and 
without,  urn,  vase,  weapon,  human  bones,  were  shovelled 
out,  and  lay  disregarded  amidst  heaps  of  rubbish. 

Not  on  such  evidences  of  the  past  civilization  looked 
the  practical  eye  of  the  Norman  Count ;  not  on  things, 

*  Batford,  Lelancfs  Collectanea,  p.  Win. 
f  Ludgate  (Leod-gate).  —  Verstegan. 
X  Massere,  merchant,  mercer. 

I.— 6 


62  HAROLD. 

but  on  men,  looked  he  ;  and  as  silently  he  rode  on  from 
street  to  street,  out  of  those  men,  stalwart  and  tall,  busy, 
active,  toiling,  the  Man-Ruler  saw  the  Civilization  that 
was  to  come. 

So,  gravely  through  the  small  city,  and  over  the  bridge 
that  spanned  the  little  river  of  the  Fleet,  rode  the  train 
along  the  Strand;  to  the  left,  smooth  sands;  to  the 
right,  fair  pastures  below  green  holts,  thinly  studded  with 
houses  ;  over  numerous  cuts  and  inlets  running  into  the 
river,  rode  they  on.  The  hour  and  the  season  were 
those  in  which  youth  enjoyed  its  holiday,  and  gay  groups 
resorted  to  the  then  *  fashionable  haunts  of  the  Foun- 
tain of  Holywell,  "streaming  forth  among  glistening 
pebbles." 

So  they  gained  at  length  the  village  of  Charing,  which 
Edward  had  lately  bestowed  on  his  Abbey  of  West- 
minster, and  which  was  now  filled  with  workmen,  native 
and  foreign,  employed  on  that  edifice  and  the  contiguous 
palace.  Here  they  loitered  awhile  at  the  Mews  -f  (where 
the  hawks  were  kept),  passed  by  the  rude  palace  of  stone 
and  rubble,  appropriated  to  the  tributary  kings  of  Scot- 
land J —  a  gift  from  Edgar  to  Kenneth  —  and  finally, 
reaching  the  inlet  of  the  river,  which,  winding  round  the 

*  Fitzstephen. 

f  Meuse.  Apparently  rather  a  hawk  hospital,  from  3futa  (Cam- 
den). Du  Fresne,  in  his  Glossary,  says,  Muia  is  in  French  Le 
Meue,  and  a  disease  to  which  the  hawk  was  subject  on  changing  its 
feathers. 

t  Scotland-yard.  —  Strypb. 


HAROLD.  63 

Isle  of  Thorney  (now  Westminster),  separated  the  rising 
church,  abbey,  and  palace,  of  the  Saint-king  from  the 
main  land,  dismounted  —  and  were  ferried  across*  the 
narrow  stream  to  the  broad  space  round  the  royal  resi- 
dence. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  new  palace  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  the  palace 
of  Westminster,  opened  its  gates  to  receive  the  Saxon 
King  and  the  Norman  Duke,  remounting  on  the  margin 
of  the  isle,  and  now  riding  side  by  side.  And  as  the 
duke  glanced  from  brows,  habitually  knit,  first  over  the 
pile,  stately  though  not  yet  completed,  with  its  long  rows 
of  round  arched  windows,  cased  by  indented  fringes  and 
fraet  (or  tooth)  work,  its  sweep  of  solid  columns  with 
circling  cloisters,  and  its  ponderous  towers  of  simple 
grandeur ;  then  over  the  groups  of  courtiers,  with  close 
vests,  and  short  mantles  and  beardless  cheeks,  that  filled 
up  the  wide  space,  to  gaze  in  homage  on  the  renowned 
guest,  his  heart  swelled  within  him,  and  checking  his 
rein,  he  drew  near  to  his  brother  of  Bayeux,  and  whis- 
pered :  — 

"Is  not  this  already  the  court  of  the  Norman  ?  Be- 
hold yon  nobles  and  earls,  how  they  mimic  our  garb  ! 

*  The  first  bridge  that  connected  Thorney  Isle  -with  the  main- 
land is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Matilda,  wife  of  Henry  I. 


64  HAROLD. 

behold  the  very  stones  in  yon  gate,  how  they  range 
themselves,  as  if  carved  by  the  hand  of  the  Norman 
mason  !  Verily  and  indeed,  brother,  the  shadow  of  the 
rising  sun  rests  already  on  these  halls." 

"  Had  England  no  People,"  said  the  bishop,  "England 
were  yours  already.  But  saw  you  not,  as  we  rode  along, 
the  lowering  brows  ?  and  heard  you  not  the  angry  mur- 
murs ?     The  villeins  are  many,  and  their  hate  is  strong." 

"  Strong  is  the  roan  I  bestride,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  but 
a  bold  rider  curbs  it  with  the  steel  of  the  bit,  and  guides 
it  with  the  goad  of  the  heel." 

And  now  as  they  neared  the  gate,  a  band  of  minstrels 
in  the  pay  of  the  Norman  touched  their  instruments,  and 
woke  their  song  —  the  household  song  of  the  Norman  — 
the  battle-hymn  of  Roland,  the  Paladin  of  Charles  the 
Great.  At  the  first  word  of  the  song,  the  Norman 
knights  and  youths,  profusely  scattered  amongst  the 
Normanized  Saxons,  caught  up  the  lay,  and  with  spark- 
ling eyes,  and  choral  voices,  they  welcomed  the  mighty 
duke  into  the  palace  of  the  last  meek  successor  of  Woden. 

By  the  porch  of  the  inner  court  the  duke  flung  himself 
from  his  saddle,  and  held  the  stirrup  for  Edward  to  dis- 
mount. The  king  placed  his  hand  gently  on  his  guest's 
broad  shoulder,  and,  having  somewhat  slowly  reached  the 
ground,  embraced  and  kissed  him  in  the  sight  of  the  gor- 
geous assemblage  ;  then  led  him  by  the  hand  towards  the 
fair  chamber  which  was  set  apart  for  the  duke,  and  so 
left  him  to  his  attendants. 

William,  lost  in  thought,  suffered  himself  to  be  disrobed 


HAROLD.  G5 

in  silence  ;  but  when  Fitzosborne,  his  favorite  confidant 
and  haughtiest  baron,  who  yet  deemed  himself  but 
honored  by  personal  attendance  on  his  chief,  conducted 
him  towards  the  bath,  which  adjoined  the  chamber,  he 
drew  back,  and  wrapping  round  him  more  closely  the 
gown  of  fur  that  had  been  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  he 
muttered  low,  —  "Nay,  if  there  be  on  me  yet  one  speck 
of  English  dust,  let  it  rest  there  !  —  seizin,  Fitzosborne, 
seizin,  of  the  English  land."  Then,  waving  his  hand,  he 
dismissed  all  his  attendants  except  Fitzosborne,  and 
Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford,*  nephew  to  Edward,  but  French 
on  the  father's  side,  and  thoroughly  in  the  duke's  coun- 
cils. Twice  the  duke  paced  the  chamber  without  vouch- 
safing a  word  to  either,  then  paused  by  the  round  win- 
dow that  overlooked  the  Thames.  The  scene  was  fair  ; 
the  sun,  towards  its  decline,  glittered  on  numerous  small 
pleasure-boats,  which  shot  to  and  fro  between  T^^estmin- 
ster  and  London,  or  towards  the  opposite  shores  of  Lam- 
beth. His  eye  sought  eagerly,  along  the  curves  of  the 
river,  the  grey  remains  of  the  fabled  Tower  of  Julius,  and 
the  walls,  gates,  and  turrets,  that  rose  by  the  stream,  or 
above  the  dense  mass  of  silent  roofs  ;  then  it  strained 
hard  to  descry  the  tops  of  the  more  distant  masts  of  that 
infant  navy,  fostered  under  Alfred,  the  far-seeing,  for  the 
future  civilization  of  wastes  unknown,  and  the  empire  of 
seas  untracked. 

*  We  give  him  that   title,  which  this  Norman  noble  generally 
bears   in   the   Chronicles,  though   Palgrave    observes   that   he  is 
rather  to  be  styled  Earl  of  the  Magestan  (the  Welch  Marches). 
G*  E 


GG  HAROLD. 

The  duke  breathed  liard,  and  opened  and  closed  the 
hand  which  he  stretched  forth  into  space,  as  if  to  grasp 
the  city  he  beheld.  "Rolf,"  said  he,  abruptly,  "thou 
knowest,  no  doubt,  the  wealth  of  the  London  traders, 
one  and  all ;  for,  foi  de  Guillaume,  my  gentil  chevalier, 
thou  art  a  true  Norman,  and  scentest  the  smell  of  gold 
as  a  hound  the  boar  ! " 

Rolf  smiled,  as  if  pleased  with  a  compliment  which 
simpler  men  might  have  deemed,  at  the  best,  equivocal, 
and  replied, — 

"  It  is  true,  my  liege  ;  and  gramercy,  the  air  of  Eng- 
land sharpens  the  scent ;  for  in  this  villein  and  motley 
country,  made  up  of  all  races,  —  Saxon  and  Fin,  Dane 
and  Fleming,  Pict  and  Walloon,  —  it  is  not  as  with  us, 
where  the  brave  man  and  the  pure  descent  are  held  chief 
in  honor ;  here,  gold  and  land  are,  in  truth,  name  and 
lordship  ;  even  their  popular  name  for  their  national  as- 
sembly of  th-e  Witan  is,  'The  Wealthy.'*  He  who  is 
but  a  ceorl  to-day,  let  him  be  rich,  and  he  may  be  earl 
to-morrow,  marry  in  king's  blood,  and  rule  armies  under 
a  gonfanon  statelier  than  a  king's  ;  while  he  whose  fathers 
were  ealdormen  and  princes,  if,  by  force  or  by  fraud,  by 
waste  or  by  largess,  he  become  poor,  falls  at  once  into 
contempt,  and  out  of  his  state,  —  sinks  into  a  class  they 
call  'six-hundred  men,' in  their  barbarous  tongue,  and 
his  children  will  probably  sink  still  lower,  into  ceorls. 
Wherefore  gold  is  the  thing  here  most  coveted  ;  and,  by 
St.  Michael,  the  sin  is  infectious." 

*Eadigan.  —  S.  Turner,  vol.  i.  p.  274. 


HAROLD.  67 

William  listened  to  the  speech  with  close  attention. 

"Good,"  said  he,  rubbing  slowly  the  palm  of  his  right 
hand  over  the  back  of  the  left ;  "  a  land  all  compact  with 
the  power  of  one  race,  a  race  of  conquering  men,  as  our 
fathers  were,  whom  nought  but  cowardice  or  treason  can 
degrade^ — such  a  land,  0  Rolf  of  Hereford,  it  were  hard 
indeed  to  subjugate,  or  decoy,  or  tame; — " 

"  So  has  my  lord  the  duke  found  the  Bretons ;  and  so 
also  do  I  find  the  Welch  upon  my  marches  of  Hereford." 

"But,"  continued  William,  not  heeding  the  interrup- 
tion, "  where  wealth  is  more  than  blood  and  race,  chiefs 
may  be  bribed  or  menaced;  and  the  multitude  —  by'r 
LaSy,  the  multitude  are  the  same  in  all  lands,  mighty 
under  valiant  and  faithful  leaders,  powerless  as  sheep 
without  them.  But  to  my  question,  my  gentle  Rolf;  this 
London  must  be  rich  ?  "  * 

'Rich  enow,"  answered  Rolf,  "to  coin  into  armed 
men,  that  should  stretch  from  Rouen  to  Flanders  on  the 
one  hand,  and  Paris  on  the  other." 

"  In  the  veins  of  Matilda,  whom  thou  wooest  for  wife," 
said  Fitzosborne,  abruptly,  "  flows  the  blood  of  Charle- 
magne. God  grant  his  empire  to  the  children  she  shall 
bear  thee  ! " 

The  duke  bowed  his  head,  and  kissed  a  relic  suspended 

*  The  comparative  wealth  of  London  was  indeed  considerable. 
When,  in  1018,  all  the  rest  of  England  was  taxed  to  an  amount 
considered  stupendous,  viz.,  71,000  Saxon  pounds,  London  con- 
tributed 11,000  pounds  besides. 


68  HAROLD. 

from  his  throat.  Farther  sign  of  approval  of  his  coun- 
sellor's words  he  gave  not,  but,  after  a  pause,  he  said, — 

"When  I  depart,  Rolf,  thou  wondest  back  to  thy 
marches.  These  Welch  are  brave  and  fierce,  and  shape 
work  enow  for  thy  hands." 

"Ay,  by  my  halidarne  !  poor  sleep  by  the  side  of  the 
bee-hive  you  have  stricken  down." 

"Marry,  then,"  said  William,  "let  the  Welch  prey  on 
Saxon,  Saxon  on  Welch ;  let  neither  win  too  easily. 
Remember  our  omens  to-day,  Welch  hawk  and  Saxon 
bittern,  and  over  their  corpses,  Duke  William's  Norway 
falcon  !  Now  dress  we  for  the  complin  *  and  the  ban- 
quet." 

*  Complin,  the  second  vespers. 


BOOK   SECOND. 


LANFRANC   THE   SCHOLAR. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Four  meals  a  day,  nor  those  sparing,  were  not  deemed 
too  extravagant  an  interpretation  of  the  daily  bread  for 
which  the  Saxons  prayed.  Four  meals  a  day,  from  earl 
to  ceorl  I  "  Happy  times  !  "  may  sigh  the  descendant  of 
the  last,  if  he  read  these  pages  ;  partly  so  they  were  for 
the  ceorl,  but  not  in  all  things,  for  never  sweet  is  the 
food,  and  never  gladdening  is  the  drink,  of  servitude. 
Inebriety,  the  vice  of  the  warlike  nations  of  the  North, 
had  not,  perhaps,  been  the  pre-eminent  excess  of  the 
earlier  Saxons,  while  yet  the  active  and  fiery  Britons,  and 
the  subsequent  petty  wars  between  the  kings  of  the  Hep- 
tarchy, enforced  on  hardy  warriors  the  safety  of  temper- 
ance ;  but  the  example  of  the  Danes  had  been  fatal. 
Those  giants  of  the  sea,  like  all  who  pass  from  great 
vicissitudes  of  toil  and  repose,  from  the  tempest  to  the 
haven,  snatch  with  full  hands  every  pleasure  in  their 
reach.  With  much  that  tended  permanently  to  elevate 
the  character  of  the  Saxon,  they  imparted  much  for  a 

(69) 


70  HAROLD. 

time  to  degrade  it.  The  Anglian  learned  to  feast  to  re- 
pletion, and  drink  to  delirium.  But  such  were  not  the 
vices  of  the  court  of  the  Confessor.  Brought  up  from 
his  youth  in  the  cloister-camp  of  the  Normans,  what  he 
loved  in  their  manners  was  the  abstemious  sobriety,  and 
the  ceremonial  religion,  which  distinguished  those  sous 
of  the  Scandinavian  from  all  other  kindred  tribes. 

The  Norman  position  in  France,  indeed,  in  much  re- 
sembled that  of  the  Spartan  in  Greece.  He  had  forced 
a  settlement  with  scanty  numbers  in  the  midst  of  a  subju- 
gated and  sullen  population,  surrounded  by  jealous  and 
formidable  foes.  Hence  sobriety  was  a  condition  of  his 
being,  and  the  policy  of  the  chief  lent  a  willing  ear  to 
the  lessons  of  the  preacher.  Like  the  Spartan,  every 
Norman  of  pure  race  was  free  and  noble  ;  and  this  con- 
sciousness inspired  not  only  that  remarkable  dignity  of 
mien  which  Spartan  and  Norman  alike  possessed,  but 
also  that  fastidious  self-respect  which  would  have  revolted 
from  exhibiting  a  spectacle  of  debasement  to  inferiors. 
And,  lastly,  as  the  paucity  of  their  original  numbers,  the 
perils  that  beset,  and  the  good  fortune  that  attended 
them,  served  to  render  the  Spartans  the  most  religious 
of  all  the  Greeks  in  their  dependence  on  the  Divine  aid ; 
so,  perhaps,  to  the  same  causes  may  be  traced  the  pro- 
verbial piety  of  the  ceremonial  Normans  ;  they  carried 
into  their  new  creed  something  of  feudal  loyalty  to  their 
spiritual  protectors  ;  did  homage  to  the  Virgin  for  the 
lands  that  she  vouchsafed  to  bestow,  and  recognized  in 
St.  Michael,  the  chief  who  conducted  their  armies. 


HAROLD.  Tl 

After  hearing  the  complin  vespers  in  the  temporary 
chapel  fitted  up  in  that  unfinished  abbey  of  Westminster, 
which  occupied  the  site  of  the  temple  of  Apollo,*  the 
king  and  his  guests  repaired  to  their  evening  meal  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  palace.  Below  the  dais  were  ranged 
tliree  long  tables  for  the  knights  in  William's  train,  and 
that  flower  of  the  Saxon  nobility  who,  fond,  like  all  youth, 
of  change  and  imitation,  thronged  the  court  of  their 
Normanized  saint,  and  scorned  the  rude  patriotism  of 
their  fathers.  But  hearts  truly  English  were  not  there. 
Yea,  many  of  Godwin's  noblest  foes  sighed  for  the  Eng- 
lish-hearted earl,  banished  by  Norman  guile  on  behalf  of 
English  law. 

At  the  oval  table  on  the  dais  the  guests  were  select 
and  chosen.  At  the  right  hand  of  the  king  sat  William  ; 
at  the  left  Odo  of  Bayeux.  Over  these  three  stretched  a 
canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  ;  the  chairs  on  which  each  sat 
were  of  metal,  richly  gilded  over,  and  the  arms  carved  in 
elaborate  arabesques.  At  this  table  too  was  the  king's 
nephew,  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  and,  in  right  of  kinsman- 
ship  to  the  duke,  the  Norman's  beloved  baron  and  grand 
seneschal,  William  Fitzosborne,  who,  though  in  Nor- 
mandy even  he  sat  not  at  the  dake's  table,  was,  as  related 
to  his  lord,  invited  by  Edward  to  his  own.     No  other 

*  Camden.  —  A  church  was  built  out  of  the  ruins  of  that  temple 
by  Sibert,  King  of  the  East  Saxons;  and  Canute  favored  much  the 
small  monastery  attached  to  it  (originally  established  by  Dunstan 
for  twelve  Benedictines),  on  account  of  its  Abbot  Wulnoth,  whose 
society  pleased  him.  The  old  palace  of  Canute,  in  Thorney  Isle, 
had  been  destroyed  by  fire. 


72  HAROLD. 

guests  were  admitted  to  this  board,  so  that,  save  Edward, 
all  were  Norman.  The  dishes  were  of  gold  and  silver, 
the  cups  inlaid  with  jewels.  Before  each  guest  was  a 
knife,  with  hilt  adorned  by  precious  stones,  and  a  napkin 
fringed  with  silver.  The  meats  were  not  placed  on  the 
table,  but  served  upon  small  spits,  and  between  every 
course  a  basin  of  perfumed  water  was  borne  round  by 
high-born  pages.  No  dame  graced  the  festival ;  for  she 
who  should  have  presided  —  she,  matchless  for  beauty 
without  pride,  piety  without  asceticism,  and  learning  with- 
out pedantry — she,  the  pale  rose  of  England,  loved  daugh- 
ter of  Godwin,  and  loathed  wife  of  Edward,  had  shared 
in  the  fall  of  her  kindred,  and  had  been  sent  by  the  meek 
King,  or  his  fierce  counsellors,  to  an  abbey  in  Hampshire, 
with  the  taunt  "  that  it  was  not  meet  that  the  child  and 
sister  should  enjoy  state  and  pomp,  while  the  sire  and 
brethren  ate  the  bread  of  the  stranger  in  banishment  and 
disgrace." 

But,  hungry  as  were  the  guests,  it  was  not  the  custom 
of  that  holy  court  to  fall  to  without  due  religious  cere- 
monial. The  rage  for  psalm-singing  was  then  at  its 
height  in  England  ;  psalmody  had  excluded  almost  every 
other  description  of  vocal  music  ;  and  it  is  even  said  that 
great  festivals  on  certain  occasions  were  preluded  by  no 
less  an  effort  of  lungs  and  memory  than  the  entire  songs 
bequeathed  to  us  by  King  David  !  This  day,  however, 
Hugoline,  Edward's  Nerman  chamberlain,  had  been 
pleased  to  abridge  the  length  of  the  prolix  grace,  and 
the  company  were  let  otf,  to  Edward's  surprise  and  dis- 


HAROLD.  73 

pleasure,  with  the  curt  and  unseemly  preparation  of  only 
nine  psalms  and  one  special  hymn  in  honor  of  some  ob- 
scure saint  to  whom  the  day  was  dedicated.  This  per- 
formed, the  guests  resumed  their  seats,  Edward  murmur- 
ing an  apology  to  WiUi€fi6'"ior  tn'e^*^fefiwi£e  omission  of 
bis  chamberlain,  aB^say|ffgHhrice*to  li^eHt"  taught, 
naught  —  very  nf/aght.", 

The  mirth  languished  at  the  royal  taVle,  desj|[te  some 
gay  efforts  from  Ki^f,  and  some  hollow  attempts'  at  light- 
hearted  cheerfulnessSEij;om  the  great  duke,  whose  eyes, 
wandering  down  the  tabled ^«''er«--endieavoring  to  distin- 
guish Saxon  from  Xorman,  and  count  how  many  of  the 
first  might  already  be  reckoned  in  the  train  of  his  friends. 
But  at  the  long  tables  below,  as  the  feast  thickened,  and 
ale,  mead,  pigment,  morat,  and  wine  circled  round,  the 
tongue  of  the  Saxon  was  loosed,  and  the  Norman  knight 
lost  somewhat  of  his  superb  gravity.  It  was  just  as  what 
a  Danish  poet  called  the  "sun  of  the  night,"  (in  other 
words,  the  fierce  warmth  of  the  wine),  had  attained  its 
meridian  glow,  that  some  slight  disturbance  at  the  doors 
of  the  hall,  without  which  waited  a  dense  crowd  of  the 
poor  on  whom  the  fragments  of  the  feast  were  afterwards 
to  be  bestowed,  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  two 
strangers,  for  whom  the  officers  appointed  to  marshal  the 
entertainment  made  room  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  tables. 
Both  these  new  comers  were  clad  with  extreme  plain- 
ness; one  in  a  dress,  though  not  quite  monastic,  that  of 
an  ecclesiastic  of  low  degree  ;  the  other  in  a  long  grey 
mantle    and   loose    gonna,  the  train  of  which  last  was 

I.  — 7 


74  HAKOLD. 

tucked  into  a  broad  leathern  belt,  leaving  bare  the 
leggings,  which  showed  limbs  of  great  bulk  and  sinew, 
and  which  were  stained  by  the  dust  and  mire  of  travel. 
The  first  mentioned  was  slight  and  small  of  person ;  the 
last  was  of  the  height  and  port  of  the  sons  of  Anak. 
The  countenance  of  neither  could  be  perceived,  for  both 
had  let  fall  the  hood,  worn  by  civilians  as  by  priests  out 
of  doors,  more  than  half-way  over  their  faces. 

A  murmur  of  great  surprise,  disdain,  and  resentment, 
at  the  intrusion  of  strangers  so  attired,  circulated  round 
the  neighborhood  in  which  they  had  been  placed,  checked 
for  a  moment  by  a  certain  air  of  respect  which  the  officer 
had  shown  towards  both,  but  especially  the  taller;  but 
breaking  out  with  greater  vivacity  from  the  faint  restraint, 
as  the  tall  man  unceremoniously  stretched  across  the 
board,  drew  towards  himself  an  immense  flagon,  which 
(agreeably  to  the  custom  of  arranging  the  feast  in 
"messes"  of  four),  had  been  specially  appropriated  to 
XJlf  the  Dane,  Godrich  the  Saxon,  and  two  young  Nor- 
man knights  akin  to  the  puissant  Lord  of  Grantmesnil, — 
and  having  offered  it  to  his  comrade,  who  shook  his 
head,  drained  it  with  a  gusto  that  seemed  to  bespeak  him 
at  least  no  Norman,  and  wiped  his  lips  boorishly  with 
the  sleeve  of  his  huge  arm. 

"  Dainty,  sir,"  said  one  of  those  Norman  knights, 
William  Mallet,  of  the  house  of  Mallet  de  Graville,*  as 

•^  See  Note  to  Pluquct's  "Roman  de  Rou,"  p.  285. 
N.  B.  —  Whenever  the  "  Roman  de  Rou "   is   quoted   in   these 
pages,  it  is  from  the  excellent  edition  of  M.  Tluquet. 


HAROLD.  -  75 

he  moved  as  far  from  the  gigantic  intruder  as  the  space 
on  the  settle  would  permit,  "  forgive  the  observation  that 
you  have  damaged  my  mantle,  you  have  grazed  my  foot, 
and  you  have  drunk  my  wine.  And  vouchsafe,  if  it  so 
please  you,  the  face  of  the  man  who  hath  done  this  triple 
wrong  to  William  Mallet  de  Graville." 

A  kind  of  laugh  —  for  laugh  absolute  it  was  not  — 
rattled  under  the  cowl  of  the  tall  stranger,  as  he  drew  it 
still  closer  over  his  face,  with  a  hand  that  might  have 
spanned  the  breast  of  his  interrogator,  and  he  made  a 
gesture  as  if  he  did  not  understand  the  question  addressed 
to  him. 

Therewith  the  Norman  knight,  bending  with  demure 
courtsey  across  the  board  to  Godrith  the  Saxon,  said,  — 

''  Pardex,^  but  this  fair  guest  and  seigneur  seemeth  to 
me,  noble  Godree  (whose  name  I  fear  my  lips  do  but 
rudely  enounce),  of  Saxon  line  and  language  ;  our  Ro- 
mance tongue  he  knoweth  not.  Pray  you,  is  it  the  Saxon 
custom  to  enter  a  king's  hall  so  garbed,  and  drink  a 
knight's  wine  so  mutely  ?  " 

Godrith,  a  young  Saxon  of  considerable  rank,  but  one 
of  the  most  sedulous  of  the  imitators  of  the  foreign 
fashions,  colored  high  at  the  irony  in  the  knight's  speech, 
and  turning  rudely  to  the  huge  guest,  who  was  now 
causing  immense  fragments  of  pastry  to  vanish  under  the 
cavernous  cowl,  he  said  in  his  native  tongue,  though  with 
a  lisp  as  if  unfamiliar  to  him,  — 

"•  Pardex,  or  Parde,  corresponding  to  the  modern  French  exple- 
tive, pardie. 


TO  HAROLD. 

"  If  thou  beest  Saxon,  shame  us  not  with  thy  ceorlish 
manners ;  crave  pardon  of  this  Norman  thegn,  who  will 
doubtless  yield  it  to  thee  in  pity.  Uncover  thy  face  — 
and  —  " 

Here  the  Saxon's  rebuke  w^as  interrupted ;  for,  one  of 
the  servitors,  just  then  approaching  Godrith's  side  with  a 
spit,  elegantly  caparisoned  with  some  score  of  plump 
larks,  the  unmannerly  giant  stretched  out  his  arm  within 
an  inch  of  the  Saxon's  startled  nose,  and  possessed  him- 
self of  larks,  broche,  and  all.  He  drew  off  two,  which  he 
placed  on  his  friend's  platter,  despite  all  dissuasive 
gesticulations,  and  deposited  the  rest  upon  his  own.  The 
young  banqueters  gazed  upon  the  spectacle  in  wrath  too 
full  for  words. 

At  last  spoke  Mallet  de  Graville,  with  an  envious  eye 
upon  the  larks  —  for  though  a  Norman  was  not  glutton- 
ous, he  was  epicurean  —  "  Certes,  and  foi  de  chevalier! 
a  man  must  go  into  strange  parts  if  he  wish  to  see 
monsters ;  but  we  are  fortunate  people,"  (and  he  turned 
to  his  Norman  friend  Aymer,  Quen  *  or  Count,  D'Eve- 
reux,)  "that  we  have  discovered  Polyphemus  without 
going  so  far  as  Ulysses;"  and  pointing  to  the  hooded 
giant,  he  quoted,  appropriately  enough, 
"  Moiistrum,  horrendum,  informe,  ingens,  cui  lumen  ademptum." 

The  giant  continued  to  devour  his  larks,  as  compla- 
cently as  the  ogre  to  whom  he  was  likened  might  have 

*  Quen,  or  leather  Quens ;  synonymous  with  Count  in  the  Norman 
Chronicles.  Earl  Godwin  is  strangely  styled  by  Wace,  Quens 
Qwine. 


HAROLD.  It 

devoured  the  Greeks  in  bis  cave.  But  his  fellow  intruder 
seemed  agitated  by  the  sound  of  the  Latin  ;  he  lifted  up 
his  head  suddenly,  and  showed  lips  glistening  with  white 
even  teeth,  and  curved  into  an  approving  smile,  while  he 
said:  ''Bene,  mi  fill!  bene,  lepidissime,  poetce  verha,  in 
militis  ore,  mon  indecora  sonant.^^* 

The  young  Norman  stared  at  the  speaker,  and  replied, 
in  the  same  tone  of  grave  affectation, — "  Courteous  Sir  ! 
the  approbation  of  an  ecclesiastic  so  eminent  as  I  take 
you  to  be,  from  the  modesty  with  which  you  conceal  your 
greatness,  cannot  fail  to  draw  upon  me  the  envy  of  my 
English  friends  ;  who  are  accustomed  to  swear  in  verba 
magistri,  only  for  vei^ba  they  learnedly  substitute  vina."*^ 

"You  are  pleasant.  Sire  Mallet,"  said  Godrith,  red- 
dening ;  "  but  I  know  well  that  Latin  is  only  fit  for 
monks  and  shavelings:  and  little  enow  even  they  hdiYQ 
to  boast  of." 

The  Norman's  lip  curled  in  disdain.  "Latin!  —  O, 
Godree,  bien  aime  ! — Latin  is  the  tongue  of  Caesars  and 
senators,  fortes  conquerors  and  pre  wj^  chevaliers.  Know- 
est  thou  not  that  Duke  William  the  dauntless  at  eight 
years  old  had  the  Comments  of  Julius  Caesar  by  heart  ? 
—  and  that  it  is  his  saying,  that  'a  king  without  letters 
is  a  crowned  ass  ?  '  f  When  the  king  is  an  ass,  asinine 
are  his  subjects.    Wherefore  go  to  school,  speak  respect- 

*  "Good,  good,  pleasant  son, — the  words  of  the  poet  sound 
gracefully  on  the  lips  of  the  knight." 

•j-  A  sentiment  variously  aspi^npd  to  William  and  to  his  son 
Henry  the  Bean  Clerc. 

^  * 


78  HAROLD. 

fully  of  thy  betters,  the  monks  and  shavelings,  who  with 
us  arc  often  brave  captains  and  sage  councillors,  —  and 
learn  that  a  full  head  makes  a  weighty  hand." 

"  Thy  name,  young  knight?"  said  the  ecclesiastic,  in 
Norman  French,  though  with  a  slight  foreign  accent. 

"  I  can  give  it  thee,"  said  the  giant,  speaking  aloud 
for  the  first  time,  in  the  same  language,  and  in  a  rough 
voice,  which  a  quick  ear  might  have  detected  as  disguised, 
— "  I  can  describe  to  thee  name,  birth,  and  quality.  By 
name,  this  youth  is  Guillaume  Mallet,  sometimes  styled 
De  Graville,  because  our  Norman  gentilhommes,  forsooth, 
must  always  now  have  a  'de'  tacked  to  their  names; 
nevertheless  he  hath  no  other  right  to  the  seigneurie  of 
Graville,  which  appertains  to  the  head  of  his  house,  than 
may  be  conferred  by  an  old  tower  on  one  corner  of  the 
demesnes  so  designated,  with  lands  that  would  feed  one 
horse  and  two  villeins  —  if  they  were  not  in  pawn  to  a 
Jew  for  moneys  to  buy  velvet  mantelines  and  a  chain  of 
gold.  By  birth,  he  comes  from  Mallet,*  a  bold  Nor- 
wegian in  the  fleet  of  Rou  the  Sea-king ;  his  mother  was 
a  Frank  woman,  from  whom  he  inherits  his  best  posses- 
sions— videlicet,  a  shrewd  wit  and  a  railing  tongue.  His 
qualities  are  abstinence,  for  he  eateth  nowhere  save  at 
the  cost  of  another — some  Latin,  for  he  was  meant  for  a 
monk,  because  he  seemed  too  slight  of  frame  for  a  war- 
rior—  some  courage,  for  in  spite  of  his  frame  he  slew 
three  Burgundians  with  his  own  hand ;  and  Duke  Wil- 

*  Mallet  is  a  genuine  Scandinavian  name  to  this  day. 


HAROLD.  i'J 

Ham,  among  other  foolish  acts,  spoilt  a  friar  sajis  tache, 
by  making  a  knight  sans  terre  ;  and  for  the  rest " 

"And  for  the  rest,"  interrupted  the  Sire  de  Graville, 
turning  white  with  wrath,  but  speaking  in  a  low  repressed 
voice,  "  were  it  not  that  Duke  William  sat  yonder,  thou 
shouldst  have  six  inches  of  cold  steel  in  thy  huge  carcase 
to  digest  thy  stolen  dinner,  and  silence  thy  unmannerly 
tongue. — " 

"  For  the  rest,"  continued  the  giant  indifferently,  and 
as  if  he  had  not  heard  the  interruption  ;  "  for  the  rest, 
he  only  resembles  Achilles,  in  being  impiger,  iracundus. 
Big  men  can  quote  Latin  as  well  as  little  ones,  Messire 
Mallet  the  heau  clerc !  " 

Mallet's  hand  was  on  his  dagger ;  and  his  eye  dilated 
like  that  of  the  panther  before  he  springs  ;  but  fortunately, 
at  that  moment,  the  deep  sonorous  voice  of  William,  ac- 
customed to  send  its  sounds  down  the  ranks  of  an  army, 
rolled  deal'  through  the  assemblage,  though  pitched  little 
above  its  ordinary  key  :  — 

"  Fair  is  your  feast,  and  bright  your  wine,  Sir  King 
and  brother  mine  !  But  I  miss  here  what  king  and 
knight  hold  as  the  salt  of  the  feast  and  the  perfume  to 
the  wine  :  the  lay  of  the  minstrel.  Beshrew  me,  but 
both  Saxon  and  Norman  are  of  kindred  stock,  and  love 
to  hear  in  hall  and  bower  the  deeds  of  their  northern 
fathers.  Crave  I  therefore  from  your  glee-men,  or  harp- 
ers, some  song  of  the  olden  time  ! " 

A  murmur  of  applause  went  through  the  Norman  part 
of  the  assembly  !  the  Saxons  looked  up ;  and  some  of 


80  HAROLD. 

the  more  practised  conrtiers  sighed  wearily,  for  they  knew 
well  what  ditties  alone  were  in  favor  with  the  saintly  Ed- 
ward. 

The  low  voice  of  the  king  in  reply  was  not  heard,  but 
those  habituated  to  read  his  countenance  in  its  very  faint 
varieties  of  expression,  might  have  seen  that  it  conveyed 
reproof;  and  its  purport  soon  became  practically  known, 
when  a  lugubrious  prelude  was  heard  from  a  quarter  of 
the  hall,  in  which  sat  certain  ghost-like  musicians  in  white 
robes  —  white  as  winding-sheets  ;  and  forthwith  a  dolor- 
ous and  dirge-like  voice  chaunted  a  long,  and  most  tedious 
recital  of  the  miracles  and  martyrdom  of  some  early  saint. 
So  monotonous  was  the  chaunt,  that  its  effect  soon  be- 
came visible  in  a  general  drowsiness.  And  when  Edward, 
who  alone  listened  with  attentive  delight,  turned  towards 
the  close  to  gather  sympathizing  admiration  from  his  dis- 
tinguished guests,  he  saw  his  nephew  yawning  as  if  his 
jaw  were  dislocated  —  the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  with  his 
well-ringed  fingers  interlaced  and  resting  on  his  stomach, 
fast  asleep — Fitzosborne's  half-shaven  head  balancing  to 
and  fro  with  many  an  uneasy  start  —  and  William,  wide- 
awake indeed,  but  with  eyes  fixed  on  vacant  space,  and 
his  soul  far  away  from  the  gridiron  to  which  (all  other 
saints  be  praised  !)  the  saint  of  the  ballad  had  at  last 
happily  arrived. 

"A  comforting  and  salutary  recital.  Count  William,'* 
said  the  king. 

The  duke  started  from  his  reverie,  and  bowed  his  head  : 
then  said  rather  abruptly,  "Is  not  yon  blazon  that  of 
Kinff  Alfred?" 


HAROLD.  81 

"  Yea.     Wherefore  ?  " 

"  Hem  !  Matilda  of  Flanders  is  in  direct  descent  from 
Alfred  :  it  is  a  name  and  a  line  the  Saxons  yet  honor  ! " 

"  Surely,  yes ;  Alfred  was  a  great  man,  and  reformed 
the  Psalmster,"  replied  Edward. 

The  dirge  ceased,  but  so  benumbing  had  been  its  effect, 
that  the  torpor  it  created,  did  not  subside  with  the  cause. 
There  was  a  dead  and  funereal  silence  throughout  the 
spacious  hall,  when  suddenly,  loudly,  mightily,  as  the 
blast  of  the  trumpet  upon  the  hush  of  the  grave,  rose  a 
single  voice.  All  started — all  turned — all  looked  to  one 
direction  ;  and  they  saw,  that  the  great  voice  pealed 
from  the  farthest  end  of  the  hall.  From  under  his  gown 
the  gigantic  stranger  had  drawn  a  small  three-stringed 
instrument — somewhat  resembling  the  modern  lute — and 
thus  he  sang  :  — 

THE    BALLAD    OF    ROU.* 


From  Blois  to  Senlis,  wave  by  wave,  rolled  on  the  Norman  flood, 
And  Frank  on  Frank  went  drifting  down  the  weltering  tide  of 

blood ; 
There  was  not  left  in  all  the  land  a  castle  wall  to  fire, 
And  not  a  wife  but  wailed  a  lord,  a  child  but  mourned  a  sire. 
To  Charles  the  king,  the  mitred  monks,  the  mailed  barons  flew, 
While,  shaking  earth,  behind  them  strode,  the  thunder  march  of 

Rou. 


*  Rou— the  name  given  by  the  French  to  Rollo,  or  Rolf-ganger, 
the  founder  of  the  Norman  settlement. 


82  HAROLD 


"0  king,"  then  cried  those  barons  bold,  "in  vain  are  mace  and 

mail, 
We  fall  before  the  Norman  axe,  as  corn  before  the  hail." 
"And  vainly,"  cried  the  pious  monks,  "by  Mary's  shrine  we  kneel, 
For  prayers,  like  arrows,  glance  aside,  against  the  Norman  steel." 
The  barons  groaned,  the  shavelings  wept,  while  near  and  nearer 

drew. 
As  death-birds  round  their  scented  feast,  the  raven  flags  of  Rou. 


Then  said  King  Charles,  "  where  thousands  fail,  what  king  can 

stand  alone  ? 
The  strength  of  kings  is  in  the  men  that  gather  round  the  throne. 
When  war  dismays  my  barons  bold,  'tis  time  for  war  to  cease ; 
AVhen  Heaven  forsakes  my  pious  monks,  the  will  of  Heaven  is  peace. 
Go  forth,  my  monks,  with  mass  and  rood  the  Norman  camp  unto, 
And  to  the  fold,  with  shepherd  crook,  entice  this  grisly  Rou. 

IV. 

"I'll  give  him  all  the  ocean  coast,  from  Michael  Mount  to  Eure, 
And  Gille,  my  child,  shall  be  his  bride,  to  bind  him  fast  and  sure ; 
Let  him  but  kiss  the  Christian  cross,  and  sheathe  the  heathen 

sword. 
And  hold  the  lands  I  cannot  keep,  a  fief  from  Charles  his  lord." 
Forth  went  the  pastors  of  the  Church,  the  Shepherd's  work  to  do, 
And  wrap  the  golden  fleece  around  the  tiger  loins  of  Rou. 


Psalm-chanting  came  the  shaven  monks,  within  the  camp  of  dread  ; 
Amidst  his  warriors,  Norman  Rou  stood  taller  by  the  head. 
Out  spoke  the  Frank  archbishop  then,  a  priest  devout  and  sage, 
"When  peace  and  plenty  wait  thy  woi'd,  what  need  of  war  and 

rage  ? 
Why  waste  a  land  as  fair  as  aught  beneath  the  arch  of  blue. 
Which  might  be  thine  to  sow  and  reap?  — Thus  saith  the  king  to 

Rou : 


HAROLD.  83 


"  '  I'll  give  thee  all  the  ocean  coast,  from  Michael  Mount  to  Eure, 
And  Gille,  my  fairest  child,  as  bride,  to  bind  thee  fast  and  sure  ; 
If  thou  but  kneel  to  Christ  our  God,  and  sheathe  thy  paynim  sword, 
And  hold  thy  land,  the  Church's  son,  a  fief  from  Charles  thy  lord.'  " 
The  Norman  on  his  warriors  looked  —  to  counsel  they  withdrew  ; 
The  saints  took  pity  on  the  Franks,  and  moved  the  soul  of  Rou. 


So  back  he  strode  and  thus  he  spoke,  to  that  archbishop  meek : 
*'I  take  the  land  thy  king  bestows  from  Eure  to  Michael-peak, 
I  take  the  maid,  or  foul  or  fair,  a  bargain  with  the  coast, 
And  for  thy  creed,  a  sea-king's  gods  are  those  that  give  the  most. 
So  hie  thee  back,  and  tell  thy  chief  to  make  his  proflFer  true, 
And  he  shall  find  a  docile  son,  and  ye  a  saint  in  Rou." 


So  o'er  the  border  stream  of  Epte  came  Rou  the  Norman,  where, 
Begirt  with  barons,  sat  the  king,  enthroned  at  green  St.  Clair ; 
He  placed  his  hand  in  Charles's  hand, — loud  shouted  all  the  throng, 
But  tears  were  in  King  Charles's  eyes — the  grip  of  Rou  was  strong. 
"Now  kiss  the  foot,"  the  bishop  said,  "that  homage  still  is  due;" 
Then  dark  the  frown  and  stern  the  smile  of  that  grim  convert,  Rou. 


He  takes  the  foot,  as  if  the  foot  to  slavish  lips  to  bring ; 

The  Normans  scowl  ;  he  tilts  the  throne,  and  backward  falls  the 

king. 
Loud  laugh  the  joyous  Norman  men — pale  stare  the  Franks  aghast ; 
And  Rou  lifts  up  his  head  as  from  the  wind  springs  up  the  mast : 
*'  I  said  I  would  adore  a  God,  but  not  a  mortal  too ; 
The  foot  that  fled  before  a  foe  let  cowards  kiss ! "  said  Rou. 

'No  words  can  express  the  excitement  which  this  rough 
minstrelsy  —  marred  as  it  is  by  our  poor  translation  from 
the  Romance  tongue  in  which  it  was  chanted — produced 
amongst  the  Xorman  guests ;  less  perhaps,  indeed,  the 


84  HAROLD. 

Bong  itself,  than  the  ij^cognition  of  the  minstrel ;  and  as 
he  closed,  from  more  than  a  hundred  voices  came  the  loud 
murmur,  only  subdued  from  a  shout  by  the  royal  pre- 
sence, "  Taillefer,  our  Norman  Taillefer  ! " 

"  By  our  joint  saint,  Peter,  ray  cousin  the  king,"  ex- 
claimed William,  after  a  frank  cordial  laugh ;  "  well  I 
wot,  no  tongue  less  free  than  my  warrior  minstrel's  could 
have  so  shocked  our  ears.  Excuse  his  bold  theme,  for 
the  sake  of  his  bold  heart,  I  pray  thee  ;  and  since  I  know 
well"  (here  the  duke's  face  grew  grave  and  anxious) 
"that  nought  save  urgent  and  weighty  news  from  my 
stormy  realm  could  have  brought  over  this  rhyming 
petral,  permit  the  officer  behind  me  to  lead  hither  a  bird, 
I  fear,  of  omen  as  well  as  of  song." 

"Whatever  pleases  thee,  pleases  me,"  said  Edward, 
dryly ;  and  he  gave  the  order  to  the  attendant.  In  a 
few  moments,  up  the  space  in  the  hall,  between  either 
table,  came  the  large  stride  of  the  famous  minstrel,  pre- 
ceded by  the  officer,  and  followed  by  the  ecclesiastic. 
The  hoods  of  both  were  now  thrown  back,  and  discovered 
countenances  in  strange  contrast,  but  each  equally  worthy 
of  the  attention  it  provoked.  The  face  of  the  minstrel 
was  open  and  sunny  as  the  day ;  and  that  of  the  priest, 
dark  and  close  as  night.  Thick  curls  of  deep  auburn  (the 
most  common  color  for  the  locks  of  the  Norman)  wreathed 
in  careless  disorder  round  Taillefer's  massive  unwrinkled 
brow.  His  eye,  of  light  hazel,  was  bold  and  joyous  ; 
mirth,  though  sarcastic  and  sly,  mantled  round  his  lips, 
His  whole  presence  was  at  once  engaging  and  heroic. 


HAROLD.  85 

On  the  other  hand,  the  priest's  cheek  was  dark  and 
sallow ;  his  features  singularly  delicate  and  refined  ;  his 
forehead  high,  but  somewhat  narrow,  and  crossed  with 
lines  of  thought ;  his  mien  composed,  modest,  but  not 
without  calm  self-confidence.  Amongst  that  assembly 
of  soldiers,  noiseless,  self-collected,  and  conscious  of  his 
surpassing  power  over  swords  and  mail,  moved  the 
Scholar. 

William's  keen  eye  rested  on  the  priest  with  some  sur- 
prise, not  unmixed  with  pride  and  ire  ;  but  first  address- 
ing Taillefer,  who  now  gained  the  foot  of  the  dais,  he 
said,  with  a  familiarity  almost  fond  — 

"  Now,  by're  lady,  if  thou  bringest  not  ill  news,  thy 
gay  face,  man,  is  pleasanter  to  mine  eyes  than  thy  rough 
song  to  my  ears.  Kneel,  Taillefer,  kneel  to  King  Ed- 
ward, and  with  more  address,  rogue,  than  our  unlucky 
countryman  to  King  Charles." 

But  Edward,  as  ill-liking  the  form  of  the  giant  as  the 
subject  of  his  lay,  said,  pushing  back  his  seat  as  far  as 
he  could  — 

"Nay,  nay,  we  excuse  thee,  we  excuse  thee,  tall  man." 
Nevertheless,  the  minstrel  still  knelt,  and  so,  with  a  look 
of  profound  humility,  did  the  priest.  Then  both  slowly 
rose,  and  at  a  sign  from  the  duke,  passed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  standing  behind  Fitzosborne's  chair. 

"  Clerk,"  said  William,  eyeing  deliberately  the  sallow 
face  of  the  ecclesiastic  ;  "  I  know  thee  of  old  ;  and  if  the 
church  have  sent  me  an  envoy,  per  la  resplendar  De,  it 
should  have  sent  me  at  least  an  abbot." 

I.— 8 


86  II  A  II  0  L  D  . 

'' Hein,  Hein!^''  said  Taillefer,  bluntly;  "vex  not  my 
hon  camarade,  Count  of  the  Normans.  Gramercy,  thou 
wilt  welcome  him,  peradventure,  better  than  me  ;  for  the 
singer  tells  but  of  discord,  and  the  sage  may  restore  the 
harmony." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  duke  ;  and  the  frown  fell  so  dark  over 
his  eyes  that  the  last  seemed  only  visible  by  two  sparks 
of  fire.  "  I  guess,  my  proud  Yavasours  are  mutinous. 
Retire,  thou  and  thy  comrade.  Await  me  in  my  cham- 
ber. The  feast  shall  not  flag  in  London  because  the  wind 
blows  a  gale  in  Rouen." 

The  two  envoys,  since  so  they  seemed,  bowed  in  silence 
and  withdrew. 

"Nought  of  ill-tidings,  I  trust,"  said  Edward,  who 
had  not  listened  to  the  whispered  communications  that 
had  passed  between  the  duke  and  his  subjects.  "  No 
schism  in  thy  church  !  The  clerk  seemed  a  peaceful  man, 
and  a  humble." 

"An'  there  were  schism  in  my  church,"  said  the  fiery 
duke ;  "  my  brother  of  Bayeux  would  settle  it  by  argu- 
ments as  close  as  the  gap  between  cord  and  throttle." 

"Ah  !  thou  art,  doubtless,  well  read  in  the  canons, 
holy  Odo  ! "  said  the  king,  turning  to  the  bishop  with 
more  respect  than  he  had  yet  evinced  towards  that  gentle 
prelate. 

"  Canons,  yes,  seigneur,  I  draw  them  up  myself  for  my 
flock,  conformably  with  such  interpretations  of  the  Roman 
Church  as  suit  best  with  the  Norman  realm  ;  and  woe  to 


HAROLD.  87 

deacon,  monk,  or  abbot,  who   chooses   to    misconstrue 
them."* 

The  bishop  looked  so  truculent  and  menacing,  while 
his  fancy  thus  conjured  up  the  possibility  of  heretical 
dissent,  that  Edward  shrank  from  him  as  he  had  done 
from  Taillefer ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  on  exchange 
of  signals  between  himself  and  the  duke,  who,  impatient 
to  escape,  was  too  stately  to  testify  that  desire,  the  retire- 
ment of  the  royal  party  broke  up  the  banquet ;  save,  in- 
deed, that  a  few  of  the  elder  Saxons,  and  more  incor- 
rigible Danes^  still  steadily  kept  their  seats,  and  were 
finally  dislodged  from  their  later  settlements  on  the  stone 
floors,  to  find  themselves,  at  dawn,  carefully  propped  in 
a  row  against  the  outer  walls  of  the  palace,  with  their 
patient  attendants,  holding  links,  and  gazing  on  their 
masters  with  stolid  envy,  if  not  of  the  repose  at  least  of 
the  drugs  that  had  caused  it. 

*  Pious  severity  to  the  heterodox  was  a  Norman  virtue.  William 
of  Poictiers  says  of  William,  "  One  knows  with  what  zeal  he  pur- 
sued and  exterminated  those  who  thought  differently ;  "  1.  e.,  on 
transubstantiation.  But  the  wise  Norman,  while  flattering  the 
tastes  of  the  Roman  Pontiff  in  such  matters,  took  special  care  to 
preserve  the  independence  of  his  Church  from  any  undue  dictation. 


HAROLD 


CHAPTER   II. 

"And  now,"  said  William,  reclining  on  a  long  and 
narrow  couch,  with  raised  carved-work  all  round  it  like 
a  box  (the  approved  fashion  of  a  bed  in  those  days), 
"now,  Sire  Taillefer  —  thy  news." 

There  were  then  in  the  duke's  chamber,  the  Count 
Fitzosborne,  Lord  of  Breteuil,  surnamed  "the  Proud 
Spirit" — who,  with  great  dignity,  was  holding  before  the 
brazier  the  ample  tunic  of  linen  (called  dormitorium  in 
the  Latin  of  that  time,  and  night-rail  in  the  Saxon 
tongue),  in  which  his  lord  was  to  robe  his  formidable 
limbs  for  repose,* — Taillefer,  who  stood  erect  before  the 
duke  as  a  Roman  sentry  at  his  post, — and  the  ecclesiastic, 
a  little  apart,  with  arras  gathered  under  his  gown,  and 
his  bright  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

"High  and  puissant,  my  liege,"  then  said  Taillefer, 
gravely,  and  with  a  shade  of  sympathy  on  his  large  face, 
"  my  news  is  such  as  is  best  told  briefly  ;  Bunaz,  Count 
d'Eu  and  descendant  of  Richard  Sanspeur,  hath  raised 
the  standard  of  revolt." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  duke,  clenching  his  hand.  i 

"  Henry,  King  of  the  French,  is  treating  with  the  rebel, 

*  A  few  generations  later  this  comfortable  and  decent  fashion  of 
night-gear  was  abandoned ;  and  our  forefathers,  Saxon  and  Nor- 
man, went  to  bed  in  puris  naturalihus,  like  the  Laplanders. 


HAROLD.  89 

and  stirring  up  mutiny  in  thy  realm,  and  pretenders  to 
thy  throne." 

"  Ha  ! "  said  the  duke,  and  his  lip  quivered  ;  "  this  is 
not  all?" 

"  'No,  ray  liege  !  and  the  worst  is  to  come.  Thy  uncle 
Mauger,  knowing  that  thy  heart  is  bent  on  thy  speedy 
nuptials  with  the  high  and  noble  damsel,  Matilda  of 
Flanders,  has  broken  out  again  in  thine  absence  —  is 
preaching  against  thee  in  hall  and  from  pulpit.  He 
declares  that  such  espousals  are  incestuous,  both  as  within 
the  forbidden  degrees,  and  inasmuch  as  Adele,  the  lady's 
mother,  was  betrothed  to  thine  uncle  Richard ;  and 
Mauger  menaces  excommunication  if  my  liege  pursues 
his  suit !  *  So  troubled  is  the  realm,  that  I,  waiting  not 
for  debate  in  council,  and  fearing  sinister  ambassage  if  1 
did  so,  took  ship  from  thy  port  of  Cherburg,  and  have 
not  flagged  rein,  and  scarce  broken  bread,  till  I  could 
say  to  the  heir  of  Rolf  the  Founder  —  Save  thy  realm 
from  the  men  of  mail,  and  thy  bride  from  the  knaves  in 
serge." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  "  cried  William  ;  then  bursting  forth  in  full 

*  Most  of  the  chroniclers  merely  state  the  parentage  within  the 
forbidden  degrees  as  the  obstacle  to  William's  marriage  with 
Matilda ;  but  the  betrothal  or  rather  nuptials  of  her  mother  Adele 
with  Richard  III.  (though  never  consummated)  appears  to  have 
been  the  true  canonical  objection.  —  See  note  to  Wace,  p,  27. 
Nevertheless,  Matilda's  mother  Adele  stood  in  the  relation  of  aunt 
to  William,  as  widow  of  his  father's  elder  brother,  "an  affinity," 
as  is  observed  by  a  writer  in  the  "Archseologia,"  "quite  near 
enough  to  account  for,  if  not  to  justify,  the  interference  of  the 
Church."  —  Arch.  vol.  xxxii.  p.  109. 
8* 


90  HAROLD. 

wrath,  as  be  sprang  from  the  couch,  "  Hearest  thou  this, 
Lord  Seneschal  ?  Seven  years,  the  probation  of  the 
patriarch,  have  I  wooed  and  waited ;  and  lo,  in  the 
seventh,  does  a  proud  priest  say  to  me,  *  Wrench  the  love 
from  thy  heart-strings  ! '  —  Excommunicate  me  —  me  — 
William,  the  son  of  Robert  the  Devil !  Ha,  by  God's 
splendor,  Mauger  shall  live  to  wish  the  father  stood,  in 
the  foul  fiend's  true  likeness,  by  his  side,  rather  than 
brave  the  bent  brow  of  the  sou  I " 

"  Dread  my  lord,"  said  Fitzosborne,  desisting  from  his 
employ,  and  rising  to  his  feet ;  "  thou  knowest  that  I  am 
thy  true  friend  and  leal  knight ;  thou  knowest  how  I  have 
aided  thee  in  this  marriage  with  the  lady  of  Flanders, 
and  how  gravely  I  think  that  what  pleases  thy  fancy  will 
guard  thy  realm ;  but  rather  than  brave  the  order  of  the 
Church,  and  the  ban  of  the  Pope,  I  would  see  thee  wed 
to  the  poorest  virgin  in  Normandy." 

William,  who  had  been  pacing  the  room,  like  an  en- 
raged lion  in  his  den,  halted  in  amaze  at  this  bold  speech. 

"This  from  thee,  William  Fitzosborne  !  —  from  thee  I 
I  tell  thee,  that  if  all  the  priests  in  Christendom,  and  all 
the  barons  in  France,  stood  between  me  and  my  bride,  I 
would  hew  my  way  through  the  midst.  Foes  invade  my 
realm  —  let  them  ;  princes  conspire  against  me  —  I  smile 
in  scorn  ;  subjects  mutiny  —  this  strong  hand  can  punish, 
or  this  large  heart  can  forgive.  All  these  are  the 
dangers  which  he  who  governs  men  should  prepare  to 
meet ;  but  man  has  a  riglit  to  his  love,  as  the  stag  to  his 
hind.     And  he  who  wrongs  me  here,  is  foe  and  traitor  to 


HAROLD.  91 

me,  not  as  Xorman  duke  but  as  human  being.  Look  to 
it  —  thou  and  thj  proud  barons,  look  to  it!" 

"  Proud  may  thy  barons  be,"  said  Fitzosborne,  redden- 
ing, and  with  a  brow  that  quailed  not  before  his  lord's ; 
"for  they  are  the  sons  of  those  who  carved  out  the  realm 
of  the  Norman,  and  owned  in  Ron  but  the  feudal  chief 
of  free  warriors ;  vassals  are  not  villeins.  And  that 
which  we  hold  our  duty  —  whether  to  Church  or  chief — 
that  Duke  William,  thy  proud  barons  will  doubtless  do  ; 
nor  less,  believe  me,  for  threats  which,  braved  in  dis- 
charge of  duty  and  defence  of  freedom,  we  hold  as  air." 

The  duke  gazed  on  his  haughty  subject  with  an  eye  in 
which  a  meaner  spirit  might  have  seen  its  doom.  The 
veins  in  his  broad  temples  swelled  like  cords,  and  a  light 
foam  gathered  round  his  quivering  lips.  But  fiery  and 
fearless  as  William  was,  not  less  was  he  sagacious  and 
profound.  In  that  one  man  he  saw  the  representative 
of  that  superb  and  matchless  chivalry — that  race  of  races 
— those  men  of  men,  in  whom  the  brave  acknowledge  the 
highest  example  of  valiant  deeds,  and  the  free  the  manli- 
est assertion  of  noble  thoughts,*  since  the  day  when  the 

*  It  might  be  easy  to  sho-w,  were  this  the  place,  that  though  the 
Saxons  never  lost  their  love  of  liberty,  yet  that  the  victories  which 
gradually  regained  the  liberty  from  the  gripe  of  the  Anglo-Norman 
kings,  were  achieved  by  the  Anglo-Norman  aristocracy.  And  even 
to  this  day,  the  few  rare  descendants  of  that  race  (whatever  their 
political  fjxction),  will  generally  exhibit  that  impatience  of  despotic 
influence,  and  that  disdain  of  corruption,  which  characterize  the 
homely  bonders  of  Norway,  in  whom  we  may  still  recognize  the 
sturdy  likeness  of  their  fathers ;  while  it  is  also  remarkable  that 
the  modern  inhabitants  of  those  portions  of  the  kingdom  originally 


92  HAROLD. 

last  Athenian  covered  his  head  with  his  mantle,  and 
mutely  died ;  and  far  from  being  the  most  stubborn 
against  his  will,  it  was  to  Fitzosborne's  paramount 
influence  with  the  council,  that  he  had  often  owed  their 
submission  to  his  wishes,  and  their  contributions  to  his 
wars.  In  the  very  tempest  of  his  wrath,  he  felt  that  the 
•  blow  he  longed  to  strike  on  that  bold  head  would  shiver 
his  ducal  throne  to  the  dust.  He  felt  too,  that  awful 
indeed  was  that  power  of  the  Church  which  could  thus 
turn  against  him  the  heart  of  his  truest  knight :  and  he 
began  (for  with  all  his  outward  frankness  his  temper  was 
suspicious)  to  wrong  the  great-souled  noble  by  the 
thought  that  he  might  already  be  won  over  by  the  enemies 
whom  Mauger  had  arrayed  against  his  nuptials.  There- 
fore, with  one  of  those  rare  and  mighty  efforts  of  that 
dissimulation  which  debased  his  character,  but  achieved 
his  fortunes,  he  cleared  his  brow  of  its  dark  cloud,  and 
said  in  a  low  voice,  that  was  not  without  its  pathos  — 

"  Had  an  angel  from  heaven  forewarned  me  that  Wil- 
liam Fitzosborne  would  speak  thus  to  his  kinsman  and 
brother  in  arms,  in  the  hour  of  need  and  the  agony  of 
passion,  I  would  have  disbelieved  him.    Let  it  pass " 

But,  ere  the  last  word  was  out  of  his  lips,  Fitzosborne 
had  fallen  on  his  knees  before  the  duke,  and,  clasping  his 
hand,  exclaimed,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  swarthy 

peopled  by  their  kindred  Danes,  are,  irrespective  of  mere  party 
divisions,  noted  for  their  intolerance  of  all  oppression,  and  their 
resolute  independence  of  character;  to  wit,  Yorkshire,  Norfolk, 
Cumberland,  and  large  districts  in  the  Scottish  lowlands. 


HAROLD.  93 

cheek,  "  Pardon,  pardon,  my  liege  !  when  thou  speftkcst 
thus,  my  heart  melts.  What  thou  wiliest,  that  will  I ! 
Church  or  Pope,  no  matter.  Send  me  to  Flanders;  I 
will  bring  back  thy  bride." 

The  slight  smile  that  curved  William's  lip,  showed  that 
he  was  scarce  worthy  of  that  sublime  weakness  in  his 
friend.  But  he  cordially  pressed  the  hand  that  grasped 
his  own,  and  said,  "  Rise  ;  thus  should  brother  speak  to 
brother."  Then  —  for  his  wrath  was  only  concealed,  not 
stifled,  and  yearned  for  its  vent  —  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
delicate  and  thoughtful  face  of  the  priest,  who  had 
watched  this  short  and  stormy  conference  in  profound 
silence,  despite  Taillefer's  whispers  to  him  to  interrupt 
the  dispute.  "So,  priest,"  he  said,  "I  remember  me 
that  when  Mauger  before  let  loose  his  rebellious  tongue 
thou  didst  lend  thy  pedant  learning  to  eke  out  his  brain- 
less treason.  Methought  that  I  then  banished  thee  my 
realm  ?  " 

"  Not  so,  Count  and  Seigneur,"  answered  the  ecclesi- 
astic, with  a  grave  but  arch  smile  on  his  lip;  "let  me 
remind  thee,  that  to  speed  me  back  to  my  native  land 
thou  didst  graciously  send  me  a  horse,  halting  on  three 
legs,  and  all  lame  on  the  fourth.  Thus  mounted,  I  met 
thee  on  my  road.  I  saluted  thee  ;  so  did  the  beast,  for 
his  head  well-nigh  touched  the  ground.  Whereon  I  did 
ask  thee,  in  a  Latin  play  of  words,  to  give  me  at  least  a 
quadruped,  not   a  tripod,  for   my  journey.*     Gracious 

*  Ex  pervetusto  codice,  MS.  Chron.  Bee.  in  Vit.  Lanfranc,  quoted 
in  the  "  Archreologia,"  vol.  xxxii.  p.  109,     The  joke,  which  is  very 


94  HAROLD. 

even  in  ire,  and  with  relenting  laugh,  was  thine  answer. 
My  liege,  thy  words  implied  banishment  —  thy  laughter, 
pardon.     So  I  stayed." 

Despite  his  wrath,  AVilliam  could  scarcely  repress  a 
smile  ;  but  recollecting  himself,  he  replied,  more  gravely, 
"  Peace  with  this  levity,  priest.  Doubtless,  thou  art  the 
envoy  from  this  scrupulous  Mauger,  or  some  other  of  my 
gentle  clergy ;  and  thou  comest,  as  doubtless,  with  soft 
words,  and  whining  homilies.  It  is  in  vain.  I  hold  the 
Church  in  holy  reverence;  the  pontiff  knows  it.  But 
Matilda  of  Flanders  I  have  wooed  ;  and  Matilda  of 
Flanders  shall  sit  by  ray  side  in  the  halls  of  Rouen,  or 
on  the  deck  of  ray  war-ship,  till  it  anchors  on  a  land 
worthy  to  yield  a  new  doraain  to  the  son  of  the  Sea- 
king." 

"  In  the  halls  of  Rouen — and  it  may  be  on  the  throne 
of  England — shall  Matilda  reign  by  the  side  of  William," 
said  the  priest,  in  a  clear,  low,  and  emphatic  voice  ;  "  and 
it  was  to  tell  my  lord  the  duke  that  I  repent  rae  of  my 
first  unconsidered  obeisance  to  Mauger  as  my  spiritual 
superior ;  that  since  then  I  have  myself  examined  canon 
and  precedent ;  and  though  the  letter  of  the  law  be  against 
thy  spousals,  it  comes  precisely  under  the  category  of  those 
alliances  to  which  the  fathers  of  the  Church  accord  dis- 
pensation: —  it  is  to  tell  thee  this,  that  I,  plain  Doctor 
of  Laws  and  priest  of  Pavia,  have  crossd  the  seas." 

poop,  seems  to  have  turned  upon  pede  and  quadrnpede ;  it  is  a  little 
altered  in  the  text. 


HAROLD.  95 

"  Ha  Rou  ! — Ha  Rou  !  "  cried  Taillefer,  with  his  usual 
bluffness,  and  laughing  with  great  glee,  "  why  wouldst 
thou  not  listen  to  me,  monseigneur  ? " 

"  If  thou  deeeivest  me  not,"  said  William,  in  surprise, 
''and  thou  canst  make  good  thy  words,  no  prelate  in 
Xeustria,  save  Odo  of  Bayeux,  shall  lift  his  head  high  as 
thine."  And  here,  William,  deeply  versed  in  the  science 
of  men,  bent  his  eyes  keenly  upon  the  unchanging  and 
earnest  face  of  the  speaker.  "Ah,"  he  burst  out,  as  if 
satisfied  with  the  survey,  "  and  my  mind  tells  me  that  thou 
speakest  not  thus  boldly  and  calmly  without  ground  suffi- 
cient.    Man,  I  like  thee.     Thy  name  ?     I  forget  it." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,  please  you,  my  lord  ;  called  some- 
times, '  Lanfranc  the  Scholar '  in  thy  cloister  of  Bee.  Nor 
misdeem  me,  that  I,  humble,  unmitred  priest,  should  be 
thus  bold.  In  birth  I  am  noble,  and  my  kindred  stand 
near  to  the  grace  of  our  ghostly  pontifi";  to  the  pontiff  I 
myself  am  not  unknown.  Did  I  desire  honors,  in  Italy  I 
might  seek  them  ;  it  is  not  so.  I  crave  no  guerdon  for 
the  service  I  proffer;  none  but  this  —  leisure  and  books 
in  the  Convent  of  Bee." 

"Sit  down  —  nay,  sit,  man,"  said  William,  greatly  in- 
terested, but  still  suspicious.  "  One  riddle  only  I  ask 
thee  to  solve,  before  I  give  thee  all  my  trust,  and  place 
my  very  heart  in  thy  hands.  Why,  if  thou  desirest  not 
rewards,  shouldst  thou  thus  care  to  serve  me  —  thou,  a 
foreigner  ?  " 

A  light,  brilliant  and  calm,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  the 
scholar,  and  a  blush  spread  over  his  pale  cheeks. 


96  HAROLD. 

"  My  Lord  Prince,  I  will  answer  in  plain  words.  But 
first  permit  me  to  be  the  questioner." 

The  pi-iest  turned  towards  Fitzosborne,  who  had  seated 
himself  on  a  stool  at  William's  feet,  and,  leaning  his  chin 
on  his  hand,  listened  to  the  ecclesiastic,  not  more  with 
devotion  to  his  calling,  than  wonder  at  the  influence  one 
so  obscure  was  irresistiby  gaining  over  his  own  martial 
spirit,  and  William's  iron  craft. 

"  Lovest  thou  not,  William  Lord  of  Breteuil,  lovest 
thou  not  fame  for  the  sake  of  fame  ?  " 

"  Sur  mon  dme,  —  yes  !  "  said  the  baron. 

"And  thou,  Taillefer  the  minstrel,  lovest  thou  not  song 
for  the  sake  of  song?" 

"  For  song  alone,"  replied  the  mighty  minstrel.  "  More 
gold  in  one  ringing  rhyme  than  in  all  the  coffers  of  Chris- 
tendom." 

"And  marvellest  thou,  reader  of  men's  hearts,"  said 
the  scholar,  turning  once  more  to  William,  "  that  the 
student  loves  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  knowledge  ? 
Born  of  high  race,  poor  in  purse,  and  slight  of  thews, 
betimes  I  found  wealth  in  books,  and  drew  strength  from 
lore.  I  heard  of  the  Count  of  Rouen  and  the  Normans, 
as  a  prince  of  small  domain,  with  a  measureless  spirit,  a 
lover  of  letters,  and  a  captain  in  war.  I  came  to  thy 
duchy,  I  noted  its  subjects  and  its  prince,  and  the  words 
of  Themistocles  rang  in  my  ear  :  '  I  cannot  play  the  lute, 
but  I  can  make  a  small  state  great.'  I  felt  an  interest  in 
thy  strenuous  and  troubled  career.  I  believe  that  know- 
ledge, to  spread  amongst  the  nations,  must  first  find  a 


HAROLD.  97 

nursery  in  tlie  brain  of  kings  ;  and  I  saw  in  the  deed- 
doer,  the  agent  of  the  thinker.  In  those  espousals,  on 
which  with  untiring  obstinacy  thy  heart  is  set,  I  might 
sympathize  with  thee  ;  perchance "  (here  a  melancholy 
smile  flitted  over  the  student's  pale  lips),  "  perchance 
even  as  a  lover :  priest  though  I  be  now,  and  dead  to 
human  love,  once  I  loved,  and  I  know  what  it  is  to  strive 
in'hope,  and  to  waste  in  despair.  But  my  sympathy,  I 
own,  was  more  given  to  the  prince  than  to  the  lover.  It 
was  natural  that  I,  priest  and  foreigner,  should  obey  at 
first  the  orders  of  Mauger,  arch-prelate  and  spiritual 
chief,  and  the  more  so  as  the  law  was  with  him  ;  but  when 
I  resolved  to  stay,  despite  thy  sentence  which  banished 
me,  I  resolved  to  aid  thee ;  for  if  with  Mauger  was  the 
dead  law,  with  thee  was  the  living  cause  of  man.  Duke 
"William,  on  thy  nuptials  with  Matilda  of  Flanders  rests 
thy  duchy  —  rest,  perchance,  the  mightier  sceptres  that 
are  yet  to  come.  Thy  title  disputed,  thy  principality  new 
and  unestablished,  thou,  above  all  men,  must  link  thy  new 
race  with  the  ancient  line  of  kings  and  kaisars.  Ma- 
tilda is  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred.  Thy 
realm  is  insecure  as  long  as  France  undermines  it  with 
plots,  and  threatens  it  with  arms.  Marry  the  daughter 
of  Baldwin — and  thy  wife  is  the  niece  of  Henry  of  France 
— thine  enemy  becomes  thy  kinsman,  and  must,  perforce, 
be  thine  ally.  This  is  not  all ;  it  were  strange,  looking 
round  this  disordered  royalty  of  England  —  a  childless 
king,  who  loves  thee  better  than  his  own  blood  ;  a  divided 
nobility,  already  adopting  the  fashions  of  the  stranger, 
L  — 9  a 


98  HAUOLU. 

and  accustomed  to  shift  their  faith  from  Saxon  to  Dane, 
and  Dane  to  Saxon  ;  a  people  that  has  respect  indeed 
for  brave  chiefs,  but,  seeing  new  men  rise  daily  from  new 
houses,  has  no  reverence  for  ancient  lines  and  hereditary- 
names  ;  with  a  vast  mass  of  villeins  or  slaves  that  have 
no  interest  in  the  land  or  its  rulers ;  strange,  seeing  all 
this,  if  thy  day-dreams  have  not  also  beheld  a  Norman 
sovereign  on  the  throne  of  Saxon  England.  And  thy 
marriage  with  the  descendant  of  the  best  and  most  be- 
loved prince  that  ever  ruled  these  realms,  if  it  does  not 
give  thee  a  title  to  the  land,  may  help  to  conciliate  its 
affections,  and  to  fix  thy  posterity  in  the  halls  of  their 
mother's  kin.  Have  I  said  eno'  to  prove  why,  for  the 
sake  of  nations,  it  were  wise  for  the  pontiff  to  stretch  the 
harsh  girths  of  the  law  ?  why  I  might  be  enabled  to  prove 
to  the  Court  of  Rome  the  policy  of  conciliating  the  love, 
and  strengthening  the  hands,  of  the  Norman  count,  who 
may  so  become  the  main  prop  of  Christendom  ?  Yea, 
have  I  said  eno'  to  prove  that  the  humble  clerk  can  look 
on  mundane  matters  with  the  eye  of  a  man  who  can  make 
small  states  great  ?  " 

William  remained  speechless  —  his  hot  blood  thrilled 
with  a  half-superstitious  awe  ;  so  thoroughly  had  this 
obscure  Lombard  divine  detailed  all  the  intricate  meshes 
of  that  policy  with  which  he  himself  had  interwoven  his 
pertinacious  affection  for  the  Flemish  princess,  that  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  he  listened  to  the  echo  of  his  own 
heart,  or  heard  from  a  soothsayer  the  voice  of  his  most 
secret  thoughts 


HAROLD.  99 

The  priest  continued  :  — 

"  Wherefore,  thus  considering,  I  said  to  myself,  Now 
has  the  time  come,  Lanfranc  the  Lombard,  to  prove  to 
thee  whether  thy  self-boastings  have  been  a  vain  deceit, 
or  whether,  in  this  age  of  iron,  and  amidst  this  lust  of 
gold,  thou,  the  penniless  and  the  feeble,  canst  make 
knowledge  and  wit  of  more  avail  to  the  destinies  of  kings 
than  armed  men  and  filled  treasuries.  I  believe  in  that 
power.  I  am  ready  for  the  test.  Pause,  judge  from 
what  the  Lord  of  Breteuil  hath  said  to  thee,  what  will 
be  the  defection  of  thy  lords  if  the  Pope  confirm  the 
threatened  excommunication  of  thine  uncle.  Thine  armies 
will  rot  from  thee  ;  thy  treasures  will  be  like  dry  leaves 
in  thy  coffers ;  the  Duke  of  Bretagne  will  claim  thy 
duchy  as  the  legitimate  heir  of  thy  forefathers ;  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  will  league  with  the  King  of  France,  and 
march  on  thy  faithless  legions  under  the  banner  of  the 
Church.  The  hand-writing  is  on  the  walls,  and  thy 
sceptre  and -thy  crown  will  pass  away." 

William  set  his  teeth  firmly,  and  breathed  hard. 

"But  send  me  to  Rome,  thy  delegate,  and  the  thunder 
of  Mauger  shall  fall  powerless.  Marry  Matilda,  bring 
her  to  thy  halls,  place  her  on  thy  throne,  laugh  to  scorn 
the  interdict  of  thy  traitor  uncle,  and  rest  assured  that 
the  Pope  shall  send  thee  his  dispensation  to  thy  spousals, 
and  his  benison  on  thy  marriage-bed.  And  when  this 
be  done,  Duke  William,  give  me  not  abbacies  and  pre- 
lacies ;  multiply  books,  and  stablish  schools,  and  bid  thy 


100  HAROLD, 

servant  found  the  royalty  of  knowledge,  as  thou  shalt 
found  the  sovereignty  of  war." 

The  duke,  transported  from  himself,  leaped  up  and 
embraced  the  priest  with  his  vast  arms ;  he  kissed  his 
cheeks,  he  kissed  his  forehead,  as,  in  those  days,  king 
kissed  king  with  "the  kiss  of  peace." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,"  he  cried,  "  whether  thou  succeed 
or  fail,  thou  hast  my  love  and  gratitude  evermore.  As 
thou  speakest,  would  I  have  spoken,  had  I  been  born, 
framed,  and  reared  as  thou.  And,  verily,  when  I  hear 
thee,  I  blush  for  the  boasts  of  my  barbarous  pride,  that 
no  man  can  wield  my  mace,  or  bend  my  bow.  Poor  is 
the  strength  of  body  —  a  web  of  law  can  entangle  it,  and 
a  word  from  a  priest's  mouth  can  palsy.  But  thou  !  — 
let  me  look  at  thee." 

William  gazed  on  the  pale  face ;  from  head  to  foot  he 
scanned  the  delicate,  slender  form,  and  then  turning 
away,  he  said  to  Fitzosborne  — 

"Thou,  whose  mailed  hand  hath  felled  a  war-steed, 
art  thou  not  ashamed  of  thyself?  The  day  is  coming,  I 
see  it  afar,  when  these  slight  men  shall  set  their  feet  upou 
our  corslets." 

He  paused  as  if  in  thought,  again  paced  the  room,  and 
stopped  before  the  crucifix,  and  image  of  the  Virgin, 
which  stood  in  a  niche  near  the  bed-head. 

"  Right,  noble  prince,"  said  the  priest's  low  voice. 
"Pause  there  for  a  solution  to  all  enigmas;  there  view 
the  symbol  of  all-enduring  power;  there  learn  its  ends 


HAROLD.  101 

below  —  comprehend  the  account  it  must  yield  above. 
To  your  thoughts  and  your  prayers  we  leave  you." 

He  took  the  stalwart  arm  of  Taillefer,  as  he  spoke 
and,  with  a  grave  obeisance  to  Fitzosborne,  left  the 
chamber. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  next  morning  William  was  long  closeted  alone 
with  Lanfranc  —  that  man,  among  the  most  remarkable 
of  his  age,  of  whom  it  was  said,  that  "  to  comprehend 
the  extent  of  his  talents,  one  must  be  Herodian  iu 
grammar,  Aristotle  in  dialectics,  Cicero  in  rhetoric, 
Augustine  and  Jerome  in  Scriptural  lore,"*  —  and  ere 
the  noon  the  duke's  gallant  and  princely  train  were 
ordered  to  be  in  readiness  for  return  home. 

The  crowd  in  the  broad  space,  and  the  citizens  from 
their  boats  in  the  river,  gazed  on  the  knights  and  steeds 
of  that  gorgeous  company,  already  drawn  up  and  await- 
ing without  the  open  gates  the  sound  of  the  trumpets 
that  should  announce  the  duke's  departure.  Before  the 
hall-door  in  the  inner  court  were  his  own  men.  The 
snow-white  steed  of  Odo  ;  the  alezan  of  Fitzosborne  ; 
and,  to  the  marvel  of  all,  a  small  palfrey  plainly  capa- 
risoned. What  did  that  palfrey  amid  those  steeds?  — 
the  steeds  themselves  seemed  to  chafe  at  the  companion- 

*  Ord.  Vital. 


102  HAROLD. 

ship ;  the  duke's  charger  pricked  up  his  ears  and  snorted  ; 
the  Lord  of  Breteuil's  alezan  kicked  out,  as  the  poor  nag 
humbly  drew  near  to  make  acquaintance ;  and  the  pre- 
late's white  barb,  with  red  vicious  eye,  and  ears  laid 
down,  ran  fiercely  at  the  low-bred  intruder,  with  difficulty 
reined  in  by  the  squires,  who  shared  the  beast's  amaze 
and  resentment. 

Meanwhile  the  duke  thoughtfully  took  his  way  to  Ed- 
ward's apartments.  In  the  ante  room  were  many  monks 
and  many  knights ;  but  conspicuous  amongst  them  all 
was  a  tall  and  stately  veteran,  leaning  on  a  great  two- 
handed  sword,  and  whose  dress  and  fashion  of  beard 
were  those  of  the  last  generation,  the  men  who  had  fought 
with  Canute  the  Great  or  Edmund  Ironsides.  So  grand 
was  the  old  man's  aspect,  and  so  did  he  contrast  in 
appearance,  the  narrow  garb  and  shaven  chins  of  those 
around,  that  the  duke  was  roused  from  his  reverie  at  the 
sight,  and  marvelling  why  one,  evidently  a  chief  of  high 
rank,  had  neither  graced  the  banquet  in  his  honor,  nor 
been  presented  to  his  notice,  he  turned  to  the  earl  of 
Hereford,  who  approached  him  with  gay  salutation,  and 
inquired  the  name  and  title  of  the  bearded  man  in  the 
loose  flowing  robe. 

"Know  you  not,  in  truth?"  said  the  lively  earl,  in 
some  wonder.  "  In  him  you  see  the  great  rival  of  God- 
win. He  is  the  hero  of  the  Danes,  as  Godwin  is  of  the 
Saxons,  a  true  son  of  Odin,  Sivvard  Earl  of  the  North- 
umbrians."* 

*  Siward  "was  almost  a  giant  (pene  gigas  staiiira).     There   aro 


HAROLD,  103 

"  Notre  Dame  be  my  aid,  —  his  fame  hath  oft  filled  my 
ears,  and  I  should  have  lost  the  most  welcome  sight  ia 
merrie  England  had  I  not  now  beheld  him." 

Therewith,  the  duke  approached  courteously,  and, 
dofiing  the  cap  he  had  hitherto  retained,  he  greeted  the 
old  hero  with  those  compliments  which  the  Xorman  had 
already  learned  in  the  courts  of  the  Frank. 

The  stout  earl  received  them  coldly,  and  replying  in 
Danish  to  William's  Romance  tongue,  he  said, 

"  Pardon,  Count  of  the  Normans,  if  these  old  lips 
cling  to  their  old  words.  Both  of  us,  methinks,  date  our 
lineage  from  the  lands  of  the  Norse.  Suffer  Siward  to 
speak  the  language  the  sea-kings  spoke.  The  old  oak 
is  not  to  be  transplanted,  and  the  old  man  keeps  the 
ground  where  his  youth  took  root." 

The  duke,  who  with  some  difficulty  comprehended  the 
general  meaning  of  Siward's  speech,  bit  his  lip,  but  re- 
plied courteously,  — 

"  The  youths  of  all  nations  may  learn  from  renowned 
age.     Much  doth  it  shame  me  that  I  cannot  commune 

some  curious  anecdotes  of  this  hero,  immortalized  by  Shakspere, 
in  the  "  Bromton  Chronicle."  His  grandfather  is  said  to  have 
been  a  bear,  who  fell  in  love  with  a  Danish  lady  ;  and  his  father, 
Beorn,  retained  some  of  the  traces  of  the  parental  physiognomy  in 
a  pair  of  pointed  ears.  The  origin  of  this  fable  seems  evident. 
His  grandfather  was  a  Berserker:  for  whether  that  name  be  de- 
rived, as  is  more  generally  supposed,  from  bare-sark,  or  rather 
from  bear-sark,  that  is,  whether  this  grisly  specimen  of  the  Viking 
genus  fought  in  his  shirt  or  his  bear-skin,  the  name  equally  lends 
itself  to  those  mystifications  from  which  half  the  old  legends, 
whether  of  Greece  or  Norway,  are  derived. 


104  HAROLD. 

with  thee  in  the  ancestral  tongue  ;  but  the  angels  at  least 
know  the  language  of  the  Norman  Christian,  and  I  pray 
them  and  the  saints  for  a  calm  end  to  thy  brave  career." 
"  Pray  not  to  angel  or  saint  for  Siward  son  of  Beorn," 
said  the  old  man  hastily  ;  "  let  me  not  have  a  cow's 
death,  but  a  warrior's ;  die  in  my  mail  of  proof,  axe  in 
hand,  and  helm  on  head.  And  such  may  be  my  death, 
if  Edward  the  king  reads  my  rede  and  grants  my  prayer." 
"  I  have  influence  with  the  king,"  said  William  ;  "  name 
thy  wish,  that  I  may  back  it." 

"The  fiend  forfend,"  said  the  grim  earl,  "that  a 
foreign  prince  should  sway  England's  king,  or  that  thegn 
and  earl  should  ask  other  backing  than  leal  service  and 
just  cause.  If  Edward  be  the  saint  men  call  him,  he 
will  loose  me  on  the  hell-wolf,  without  other  cry  than  his 
own  conscience." 

The  duke  turned  inquiringly  to  Rolf;  who,  thus  ap- 
pealed to,  said, — 

"  Siward  urges  my  uncle  to  espouse  the  cause  of  Mal- 
colm of  Cumbria  against  the  bloody  tyrant  Macbeth  ;  and 
but  for  the. disputes  with  the  traitor  Godwin,  the  king 
had  long  since  turned  his  arms  to  Scotland." 

"  Call  not  traitors,  young  man,''  said  the  earl,  in  high 
disdain,  "those  who,  with  all  their  faults  and  crimes, 
have  placed  tliy  kinsman  on  the  throne  of  Canute." 

"Hush,  Rolf,"  said  the  duke,  observing  the  fierce 
young  Norman  about  to  reply  hastily.  "  But  methought, 
though  my  knowledge  of  English  troubles  is  but  scant, 
that  Siward  was  the  sworn  foe  to  Godwin?" 


HAROLD.  105 

"  Foe  to  him  in  his  power,  friend  to  him  in  his  wrongs," 
answered  Siward.  "And  if  England  needs  defenders 
when  I  and  Godwin  are  in  our  shrouds,  there  is  but  one 
man  worthy  of  the  days  of  old,  and  his  name  is  Harold, 
the  outlaw." 

William's  face  changed  remarkably,  despite  all  his 
dissimulation  ;  and,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head, 
he  strode  on,  moody  and  irritated. 

"  This  Harold  !  this  Harold  ! "  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  all  brave  men  speak  to  me  of  this  Harold  !  Even  my 
Norman  knights  name  him  with  reluctant  reverence,  and 
even  his  foes  do  him  honor ;  —  verily  his  shadow  is  cast 
from  exile  over  all  the  land." 

Thus  murmuring,  he  passed  the  throng  with  less  than 
his  wonted  affable  grace,  and  pushing  back  the  officers 
who  wished  to  precede  him,  entered,  without  ceremony, 
Edward's  private  chamber. 

The  king  was  alone,  but  talking  loudly  to  himself, 
gesticulating  vehemently,  and  altogether  so  changed 
from  his  ordinary  placid  apathy  of  mien,  that  William 
drew  back  in  alarm  and  awe.  Often  had  he  heard  indi- 
rectly, that  of  late  years  Edward  was  said  to  see  visions, 
and  be  rapt  from  himself  into  the  world  of  spirit  and 
shadow ;  and  such,  he  now  doubted  not,  was  the  strange 
paroxysm  of  which  he  was  made  the  witness.  Edward's 
eyes  were  fixed  on  him,  but  evidently  without  recognizing 
his  presence ;  the  king's  hands  were  outstretched,  and  he 
cried  aloud  in  a  voice  of  sharp  anguish  — 

"  Sanguelac,  Sanguelacf  —  the  Lake  of  Blood  !  —  the 


lOG  HAROLD. 

waves  spread,  the  waves  redden  !  Mother  of  mercy  — 
where  is  the  ark  ? — where  the  Ararat  ? — Fly — fly — this 
way  —  this "  and  he  caught  convulsive  hold  of  Wil- 
liam's arm.  "  No  !  there  the  corpses  are  piled  —  high 
and  higher — there  the  horse  of  the  Apocalypse  tramples 
the  dead  in  their  gore." 

In  great  horror,  William  took  the  king,  now  gasping 
on  his  breast,  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on  his  bed,  be- 
neath its  canopy  of  state,  all  blazoned  with  the  martlets 
and  cross  of  his  insignia.  Slowly  Edward  came  to  him- 
self, with  heavy  sighs  ;  and  when  at  length  he  sate  up 
and  looked  round,  it  was  with  evident  unconsciousness 
of  what  had  passed  across  his  haggard  and  wandering 
spirit,  for  he  said  with  his  usual  drowsy  calmness  — 

"  Thanks,  Guillaume,  bieji  aime,  for  rousing  me  from 
unseasoned  sleep.     How  fares  it  with  thee?" 

**  Nay,  how  with  thee,  dear  friend  and  king  ?  thy  dreams 
have  been  troubled." 

"  Not  so  ;  I  slept  so  heavily,  methinks  I  could  not 
have  dreamed  at  all.  But  thou  art  clad  as  for  a  journey 
—  spur  on  thy  heel,  staff  in  thy  hand  ! " 

"  Long  since,  0  dear  host,  I  sent  Odo  to  tell  thee  of 
the  ill  news  from  Normandy  that  compelled  me  to  de- 
part." 

"  I  remember  —  I  remember  me  now,"  said  Edward, 
passing  his  pale  womanly  fingers  over  his  forehead.  "  The 
heathen  rage  against  thee.  Ah  !  my  poor  brother,  a 
crown  is  an  awful  head-gear.     While  yet  time,  why  not 


HAROLD.  1U7 

both  seek  some  quiet  convent,  and  put  away  these  earthly 
cares  ?  " 

William  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "Nay,  holy  Ed- 
ward, from  all  I  have  seen  of  convents,  it  is  a  dream  to 
think  that  the  monk's  serge  hides  a  calmer  breast  than 
the  warrior's  mail,  or  the  king's  ermine.  Now  give  me 
thy  benison,  for  I  go." 

He  knelt  as  he  spoke,  and  Edward  bent  his  hands  over 
his  head,  and  blessed  him.  Then,  taking  from  his  own 
neck  a  collar  of  zimmes  (jewels  and  uncut  gems),  of  great 
price,  the  king  threw  it  over  the  broad  throat  bent  before 
him,  and  rising,  clapped  his  hands.  A  small  door  opened, 
giving  a  glimpse  of  the  oratory  within,  and  a  monk  ap- 
peared. 

"  Father,  have  my  behests  been  fulfilled  ? — hath  Hugo- 
line,  my  treasurer,  dispensed  the  gifts  that  I  spoke  of  ?  " 

"  Yerily  yes  ;  vault,  coffer,  and  garde-robe  —  stall  aud 
meuse — are  well-nigh  drained,"  answered  the  monk,  with 
a  sour  look  at  the  Norman,  whose  native  avarice  gleamed 
in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  heard  the  answer. 

"  Thy  train  go  not  hence  empty-handed,"  said  Edward 
fondly.  "  Thy  father's  halls  sheltered  the  exile,  and  the 
exile  forgets  not  the  sole  pleasure  of  a  king — the  power 
to  requite.  We  may  never  meet  again,  William  —  age 
creeps  over  me,  and  who  will  succeed  to  my  thorny 
throne  ? " 

William  longed  to  answer, —  to  tell  the  hope  that  con- 
sumed him,  —  to  remind  his  cousin  of  the  vague  promise 
ir  their  youth,  that  the  Norman  count  should  succeed  to 


108  HAROLD.  • 

that  "  thorny  throne ; "  but  the  presence  of  the  Saxon 
monk  repelled  him,  nor  was  there  in  Edward's  uneasy- 
look  much  to  allure  him  on. 

"But  peace,"  continued  the  king,  "be  between  thine 
and  mine,  as  between  thee  and  me  I " 

"Amen,"  said  the  duke,  "and  I  leave  thee  at  least  free 
from  the  proud  rebels  who  so  long  disturbed  thy  reign. 
This  house  of  Godwin,  thou  wilt  not  again  let  it  tower 
above  thy  palace?" 

"  Nay,  the  future  is  with  God  and  his  saints,"  answered 
Edward  feebly.  "  But  Godwin  is  old — older  than  I,  and 
bowed  by  many  storms." 

"Ay,  his  sons  are  more  to  be  dreaded,  and  kept  aloof 
—  mostly  Harold!" 

"  Harold, — he  was  ever  obedient,  he  alone  of  his  kith  ; 
truly  my  soul  mourns  for  Harold,"  said  the  king,  sighing. 

"  The  serpent's  egg  hatches  but  the  serpent.  Keep 
thy  heel  on  it,"  said  William,  sternly. 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  irresolute  prince,  who 
never  seemed  three  days  or  three  minutes  together  in  the 
same  mind.  "  Harold  is  in  Ireland — there  let  him  rest : 
better  for  all." 

"  For  all,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  so  the  saints  keep  thee, 
O  royal  saint !  " 

He  kissed  the  king's  hand,  and  strode  away  to  the  hall 
where  Odo,  Fitzosborne,  and  the  priest  Lanfranc  awaited 
him.  And  so  that  day,  half-way  towards  the  fair  town 
of  Dover,  rode  Duke  William,  and  by  the  side  of  his  roan 
barb  ambled  the  priest's  palfrey. 


HAROLD.  109 

Behind  came  his  gallant  train,  and  with  tumbrils  and 
sumpter-mules  laden  with  baggage,  and  enriched  by  Ed- 
ward's gifts ;  while  Welch  hawks,  and  steeds  of  great 
price  from  the  pastures  of  Surrey  and  the  plains  of  Cam- 
bridge and  York,  attested  no  less  acceptably  than  zimme, 
and  golden  chain,  and  broidered  robe,  the  munificence 
of  the  grateful  king.* 

As  they  journeyed  on,  and  the  fame  of  the  duke's 
coming  was  sent  abroad  by  the  bodes  or  messengers, 
despatched  to  prepare  the  towns  through  which  he  was 
to  pass  for  an  arrival  sooner  than  expected,  the  more 
high-born  youths  of  England,  especially  those  of  the 
party  counter  to  that  of  the  banished  Godwin,  came 
round  the  ways  to  gaze  upon  that  famous  chief,  who, 
from  the  age  of  fifteen,  had  wielded  the  most  redoubtable 
sword  of  Christendom.  And  those  youths  wore  the  Nor- 
man garb  :  and  in  the  towns,  Norman  counts  held  his 
stirrup  to  dismount,  and  Norman  hosts  spread  the  fasti- 
dious board ;  and  when,  at  the  eve  of  the  next  day,  ^AM1- 
liara  saw  the  pennon  of  one  of  his  own  favorite  chiefs 
waving  in  the  van  of  armed  men,  that  sallied  forth  from 
the  towers  of  Dover  (the  key  of  the  coast),  he  turned 
to  the  Lombard,  still  by  his  side,  and  said ;  — 

"  Is  not  England  part  of  Normandy  already  ?  " 

And  the  Lombard  answered  :  — 

"  The  fruit  is  well-nigh  ripe,  and  the  first  breeze  will 

*  Wace. 
L  — 10 


110  HAROLD. 

shake  it  to  thy  feet.  Put  not  out  thy  hand  too  soon. 
Let  the  wind  do  its  work." 

And  the  duke  made  reply, 

"As  thou  thinkest,  so  think  I.  And  there  is  but  one 
wind  in  the  halls  of  heaven  that  can  waft  the  fruit  to  the 
feet  of  another." 

"And  that  ?  "  asked  the  Lombard. 

'*  Is  the  wind  that  blows  from  the  shores  of  Ireland, 
when  it  fills  the  sails  of  Harold,  son  of  Godwin." 

"  Thou  fearest  that  man,  and  why  ?  "  asked  the  Lom- 
bard with  interest. 

And  the  duke  answered  :  — 

"  Because  in  the  breast  of  Harold  beats  the  heart  of 
England." 


BOOK   THIRD 


THE    HOUSE    OF    GODWIN, 


CHAPTER   I. 

And  all  went  to  the  desire  of  Dake  William  the  Nor- 
man. With  one  hand  he  curbed  his  proud  vassals,  and 
drove  back  his  fierce  foes  :  with  the  other,  he  led  to  the 
altar  Matilda,  the  maid  of  Flanders  ;  and  all  happened 
a's  Lanfranc  had  foretold.  William's  most  formidable 
enemy,  the  King  of  France,  ceased  to  conspire  against 
his  new  kinsman ;  and  the  neighboring  princes  said, 
"  The  Bastard  hath  become  one  of  us  since  he  placed  by 
his  side  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne."  And  Mauger, 
Archbishop  of  Rouen,  excommunicated  the  duke  and 
his  bride,  and  the  ban  fell  idle  ;  for  Lanfranc  sent  fi*om 
Rome  the  Pope's  dispensation  and  blessing,  conditionally 
only  that  bride  and  bridegroom  founded  each  a  church. 
And  Mauger  was  summoned  before  the  synod,  and  ac- 
cused of  unclerical  crimes  ;  and  they  deposed  him  from 
his  state,  and  took  from  him  abbacies  and  sees.  And 
England,  every  day,  waxed  more   and   more   Xorraan  ; 

(111) 


112  HAROLD. 

and  Edward  grew  more  feeble  and  infirm,  and  there 
seemed  not  a  barrier  between  the  Norman  duke  and  the 
English  throne,  when  suddenly  the  wind  blew  in  the  halls 
of  heaven,  and  filled  the  sails  of  Harold  the  Earl. 

And  his  ships  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  Severn.  And 
the  people  of  Somerset  and  Devon,  a  mixed  and  mainly 
a  Celtic  race,  who  bore  small  love  to  the  Saxons,  drew 
together  against  him,  and  he  put  them  to  flight.* 

Meanwhile,  Godwin  and  his  sons  Sweyn,  Tostig,  and 
Gurth,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  that  very  Flanders  from 
which  William  the  Duke  had  won  his  bride — (for  Tostig 
had  wed,  previously,  the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  rose  of 
Flanders  ;  and  Count  Baldwin  had,  for  his  sons-in-law, 
both  Tostig  and  William), — meanwhile,  I  say,  these,  not 
holpen  by  the  Count  Baldwin,  but  helping  themselves, 
lay  at  Bruges,  ready  to  join  Harold  the  Earl.  And  Ed- 
ward, advised  of  this  from  the  anxious  Norman,  caused 
forty  ships  f  to  be  equipped,  and  put  them  under  com- 
mand of  Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford.  The  ships  lay  at  Sand- 
wich in  wait  for  Godwin.  But  the  old  earl  got  from  them, 
and  landed  quietly  on  the  southern  coast.  And  the  fort 
of  Hastings  opened  to  his  coming  with  a  shout  from  its 
armed  men. 

All  the  boatmen,  all  the  mariners,  far  and  near, 
thronged  to  him,  with  sail  and  with  shield,  with  sword 
and  with  oar.  All  Kent  (the  foster-mother  of  the 
Saxons)  sent  forth  the  cry,  "  Life  or  death  with  Earl 

*  Anglo-Saxon   Chronicle.  f  Some  writers  say  fifty. 


HAROLD.  113 

Godwin."*  Fast  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land  went  the  bodes  f  and  riders  of  the  earl ;  and  hosts, 
with  one  voice,  answered  the  cry  of  the  children  of 
Horsa,  "Life  or  death  with  Earl  Godwin."  And  the 
ships  of  King  Edward,  in  dismay,  turned  flag  and  prow 
to  London,  and  the  fleet  of  Harold  sailed  on.  So  the 
old  earl  met  his  young  son  on  the  deck  of  a  war-ship, 
that  had  once  borne  the  Raven  of  the  Dane. 

Swelled  and  gathering  sailed  the  armament  of  the 
English  men.  Slow  up  the  Thames  it  sailed,  and  on 
either  shore  marched  tumultuous  the  swarming  multi- 
tudes. And  King  Edward  sent  after  more  help,  but  it 
came  up  very  late.  So  the  fleet  of  the  earl  nearly  faced 
the  Juliet  Keape  of  London,  and  abode  at  Southwark 
till  the  flood-tide  came  up.  When  he  had  mustered  his 
host,  then  came  the  flood-tide.  J 


CHAPTER   II. 

King  Edward  sat,  not  on  his  throne,  but  on  a  chair 
of  state,  in  the  presence-chamber  of  his  palace  of  West- 
minster. His  diadem,  with  the  three  zimmes  shaped  into 
a  triple  trefoil  §  on  his  brow,  his  sceptre  in  his  right  hand. 

*  Hovenden.  f  Bodes,  i.  e.  messengers. 

J  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 

§  Or  Fleur-de-lis,  which  seems  to  have  been  a  common  form  of 
ornament  with  the  Saxon  kings. 

10*  H 


J14  HAROLD. 

His  royal  robe,  tight  to  the  throat,  with  a  broad  band 
of  gold,  flowed  to  his  feet;  and  at  the  fold  gathered 
round  the  left  knee,  where  now  the  kings  of  England 
wear  the  badge  of  St.  George,  was  embroidered  a  simple 
cross.*  In  that  chamber  met  the  thegns  and  proceres 
of  his  realm :  but  not  they  alone.  !N'o  national  Witan 
there  assembled,  but  a  council  of  war,  composed  at  least 
one-third  part  of  Normans  —  counts,  knights,  prelates, 
and  abbots  of  high  degree. 

And  King  Edward  looked  a  king !  The  habitual 
lethargic  meekness  had  vanished  from  his  face,  and  the 
large  crown  threw  a  shadow,  like  a  frown,  over  his  hrow. 
His  spirit  seemed  to  have  risen  from  the  weight  it  took 
from  the  sluggish  blood  of  his  father,  Ethelred  the 
Unready,  and  to  have  remounted  to  the  brighter  and 
earlier  source  of  ancestral  heroes.  Worthy  in  that  hour 
he  seemed  to  boast  the  blood  and  wield  the  scepti^  of 
Athelstan  and  Alfred. 

Thus  spoke  the  king: 

"  Right  w^orthy  and  beloved,  ray  ealdermen,  earls,  and 
thegns  of  England  ;  noble  and  familiar,  my  friends  and 
guests,  counts  and  chevaliers  of  Normandy,  my  mother's 
land ;  and  you,  our  spiritual  chiefs,  above  all  ties  of 
birth  and  country,  Christendom  your  common  appanage, 
and  from  Heaven  your  seignories  and  fiefs  —  hear  the 
words  of  Edward,  the  King  of  England,  under  grace  of 
the  Most  High.    The  rebels  are  in  our  river  ;  open  yonder 

*  Bayeux  tapestry. 


HAROLD.  115 

lattice,  aud  you  will  see  the  piled  shields  glittering  from 
their  barks,  and  hear  the  hum  of  their  hosts.  Not  a 
bow  has  yet  been  drawn,  not  a  sword  left  its  sheath  ;  yet 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  are  our  fleets  of  forty 
sail  —  along  the  strand,  between  our  palace  and  the 
gates  of  London,  are  arrayed  our  armies.  And  this 
pause  because  Godwin  the  traitor  hath  demanded  truce, 
and  his  nuncius  waits  without.  Are  ye  willing  that  we 
should  hear  the  message  ?  or  would  ye  rather  that  we 
dismiss  the  messenger  unheard,  and  pass  at  once,  to  rank 
and  to  sail,  the  war-cry  of  a  Christian  king,  *  Holy  Crosse 
and  our  Lady  ! '  " 

The  king  ceased,  his  left  hand  grasping  firm  the 
leopard  head  carved  on  his  throne,  and  his  sceptre  un. 
trembling  in  his  lifted  hand. 

A  murmur  of  Notre  Dame,  Notre  Dame,  the  war-cry 
of  the  Normans,  was  heard  amongst  the  stranger-knights 
of  the  audience  ;  but  haughty  and  arrogant  as  those 
strangers  were,  no  one  presumed  to  take  precedence,  in 
England's  danger,  of  men  English  born 

Slowly  then  rose  Aired,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the 
worthiest  prelate  in  all  the  land.* 

"Kingly  son,"  said  the  bishop,  ''evil  is  the  strife  be- 

*  The  York  Chronicle,  written  by  an  Englishman,  Stubbs,  gives 
this  eminent  person  an  excellent  character  as  peace-maker.  "  He 
could  make  the  -warmest  friends  of  foes  the  most  hostile.  "De 
inimicissimis,  amicissimos  faceret."  This  gentle  priest  had  yet  the 
courage  to  curse  the  Norman  Conqueror  in  the  midst  of  his  barons. 
That  scene  is  not  within  the  range  of  this  work,  but  it  is  very 
strikingly  told  in  the  Chronicle. 


116  HAROLD. 

tween  men  of  the  same  blood  and  lineage,  nor  justified 
but  by  extremes,  which  have  not  yet  been  made  clear  to 
us.  And  ill  would  it  sound  throughout  Eugland  were  it 
said  that  the  king's  council  gave,  perchance,  his  city  of 
London  to  sword  and  fire,  and  rent  his  land  in  twain, 
when  a  word  in  season  might  have  disbanded  yon  armies, 
and  given  to  your  throne  a  submissive  subject,  where  now 
you  are  menaced  by  a  formidable  rebel.  Wherefore,  I 
say,  admit  the  nuncius." 

Scarcely  had  Aired  resumed  his  seat,  before  Robert 
the  Norman  prelate  of  Canterbury  started  up  —  a  man, 
it  was  said,  of  worldly  learning  —  and  exclaimed  — 

"  To  admit  the  messenger  is  to  approve  the  treason. 
I  do  beseech  the  king  to  consult  only  his  own  royal  heart 
and  royal  honor.  Reflect — each  moment  of  delay  swells 
the  rebel  hosts — strengthens  their  cause  ;  of  each  moment 
they  avail  themselves,  to  allure  to  their  side  the  misguided 
citizens.  Delay  but  proves  our  own  weakness;  a  king's 
name  is  a  tower  of  strength,  but  only  when  fortified  by  a 
king's  authority.  Give  the  signal  for  —  icai'  I  call  it  not 
—  no — for  chastisement  and  justice." 

"As  speaks  my  brother  of  Canterbury,  speak  I,"  said 
William,  Bishop  of  London,  another  Norman. 

But  then  there  rose  up  a  form  at  whose  rising  all 
murmurs  were  hushed. 

Grey  and  vast,  as  some  image  of  a  gone  and  mightier 
age,  towered  over  all  Siward,  the  son  of  Beorn,  the  great 
Earl  of  Northumbria. 

"  We  have  nought  to  do  with  the  Normans.     Were 


HAROLD.  117 

they  on  the  river,  and  our  countrymen,  Dane  or  Saxon, 
alone  in  this  hall,  small  doubt  of  the  King's  choice,  and 
niddering  were  the  man  who  spoke  of  peace  ;  but  when 
Norman  advises  the  dwellers  of  England  to  go  forth  and 
slay  each  other,  no  sword  of  mine  shall  be  drawn  at  his 
hest.  Who  shall  say  that  Siward  of  the  Strong  Arm, 
the  grandson  of  the  Berserker,  ever  turned  from  a  foe  ? 
The  foe,  sou  of  Ethelred,  sits  in  these  halls  ;  I  fight  thy 
battles  when  I  say  Nay  to  the  Norman !  Brothers-in- 
arms of  the  kindred  race  and  common  tongue,  Dane  and 
Saxon  long  intermingled,  proud  alike  of  Canute  the 
glorious  and  Alfred  the  wise,  ye  will  hear  the  man  whom 
Godwin,  our  countryman,  sends  to  us ;  he  at  least  will 
speak  our  tongue,  and  he  knows  our  laws.  If  the  demand 
he  delivers  be  just,  such  as  a  king  should  grant,  and  our 
Witan  should  hear,  woe  to  him  who  refuses ;  if  unjust  be 
the  demand,  shame  to  him  who  accedes.  Warrior  sends 
to  warrior,  countryman  to  countryman  ;  hear  we  as  coun- 
trymen, and  judge  as  warriors.     I  have  said." 

The  utmost  excitement  and  agitation  followed  the 
speech  of  Siward, — unanimous  applause  from  the  Saxons, 
even  those  who  in  times  of  peace  were  most  under  the 
Norman  contagion  ;  but  no  words  can  paint  the  wrath 
and  scorn  of  the  Normans.  They  spoke  loud  and  many 
at  a  time;  the  greatest- disorder  prevailed.  But  the 
majority  being  English,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
the  decision,  and  Edward,  to  whom  the  emergence  gave 
both  a  dignity  and  presence  of  mind  rare  to  him,  resolved 
to  terminate  the  dispute  at  once.     He  stretched  forth  his 


118  HAROLD. 

sceptre,  and  motioning  to  his  chamberlain,  bade  him  in^ 
troduce  the  nuncius.* 

A  blank  disappointment,  not  unmixed  with  apprehen- 
sive terror,  succeeded  the  turbulent  excitement  of  the 
Normans ;  for  well  they  knew  that  the  consequences,  if 
not  condition,  of  negotiations,  would  be  their  own  downfall 
and  banishment  at  the  least ;  —  happy,  it  might  be,  to 
escape  massacre  at  the  hands  of  the  exasperated  multi- 
tude. 

The  door  at  the  end  of  the  room  opened,  and  the  nun- 
cius appeared.  He  was  a  sturdy,  broad-shouldered  man, 
of  middle  age,  and  in  the  long  loose  garb  originally 
national' with  the  Saxon,  though  then  little  in  vogue; 
his  beard  thick  and  fair,  his  eyes  grey  and  calm — a  chief 
of  Kent,  where  all  the  prejudices  of  his  race  were  strong- 
est, and  whose  yeomanry  claimed  in  war  the  hereditary 
right  to  be  placed  in  the  front  of  battle. 

He  made  his  manly  but  deferential  salutation  to  the 
august  council  as  he  approached ;  and  pausing  midway 
betw^een  the  throne  and  door,  he  fell  on  his  knees  with  • 
out  thought  of  shame,  for  the  king  to  whom  he  knelt  was 
the  descendant  of  Woden,  and  the  heir  of  Hengist.  At 
a  sign  and  a  brief  word  from  the  king,  still  on  his  knees^ 
Tebba,  the  Kentman,  spoke. 

"  To  Edward,  son  of  Ethelred,  his  most  gracious  king 
and  lord,  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  sends   faithful  and 

*  Heralds,  though  probably  the  word  is  Saxon,  were  not  then 
known  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  The  name  given 
to  the  messenger  or  envoy  who  fulfilled  that  office  was  bode  or 
nuncius. 


HAROLD.  119 

humble  greeting,  by  Yebba,  the  thegn-born.  He  prays 
the  king  to  hear  him  in  kindness,  and  judge  of  him  with 
mercy.  Not  against  the  king  comes  he  hither  with  ships 
and  arms  ;  but  against  those  only  who  would  stand  be- 
tween the  king's  heart  and  the  subject's ;  those  who  have 
divided  a  house  against  itself,  and  parted  son  and  father, 
man  and  wife. — " 

At  those  last  words  Edward's  sceptre  trembled  in  his 
hand,  and  his  face  grew  almost  stern. 

"  Of  the  king,  Godwin  but  prays  with  all  submiss  and 
earnest  prayer,  to  reverse  the  unrighteous  outlawry  against 
him  and  his  ;  to  restore  to  him  and  his  sons  their  just 
possessions  and  well-won  honors  ;  and,  more  than  all,  to 
replace  them  where  they  have  sought  by  loving  service 
not  unworthily  to  stand,  in  the  grace  of  their  born  lord, 
and  in  the  van  of  those  who  would  uphold  the  laws  and 
liberties  of  England.  This  done — the  ships  sail  back  to 
their  haven  ;  the  thegn  seeks  his  homestead,  and  the  ceorl 
returns  to  the  plough  ;  for  with  Godwin  are  no  strangers : 
and  his  force  is  but  the  love  of  his  countrymen." 

"  Hast  thou  said  ?  "  quoth  the  king. 

"  I  have  said." 

"Retire,  and  await  our  answer." 

The  Thegn  of  Kent  was  then  led  back  into  an  ante- 
room, in  which,  armed  from  head  to  heel  in  ring-mail, 
were  several  Xormans  whose  youth  or  station  did  not 
admit  them  into  the  council,  but  still  of  no  mean  interest 
in  the  discussion,  from  the  lands  and  possessions  they  had 
already  contrived  to  gripe  out  of  the  demesnes  of  the 


120  HAROLD. 

exiles ;  —  burning  for  battle  and  eager  for  the  word. 
Amongst  these  was  Mallet  de  Graville, 

The  Norman  valor  of  this  young  knight  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  guided  by  Norman  intelligence  ;  and  he  had 
not  disdained,  since  William's  departure,  to  study  the 
tongue  of  the  country  in  which  he  hoped  to  exchange  his 
mortgaged  tower  on  the  Seine,  for  some  fair  barony  on 
the  Humber  or  the  Thames. 

While  the  rest  of  his  proud  countrymen  stood  aloof, 
with  eyes  of  silent  scorn,  from  the  homely  nuncius,  Mallet 
approached  him  with  courteous  bearing,  and  said  in 
Saxon  :  — 

"  May  I  crave  to  know  the  issue  of  thy  message  from 
the  reb — that  is,  from  the  doughty  earl?" 

"I  wait  to  learn  it,"  said  Yebba,  bluffly. 

'*  They  heard  thee  throughout,  then  ? " 

"Throughout." 

"Friendly  sir,"  said  the  Sire  de  Graville,  seeking  to 
subdue  the  tone  of  irony  habitual  to  him,  and  acquired, 
perhaps,  from  his  maternal  ancestry,  the  Franks. 
"  Friendly  and  peace-making  sir,  dare  I  so  far  venture  to 
intrude  on  the  secrets  of  thy  mission  as  to  ask  if  Godwin 
demands,  among  other  reasonable  items,  the  head  of  thy 
humble  servant  —  not  by  name,  indeed,  for  my  name  is  as 
yet  unknown  to  him  —  but  as  one  of  the  unhappy  class 
called  Normans?"  *■ 

"Had  Earl  Godwin,"  returned  the  nuncius,  "thought 
fit  to  treat  for  peace  by  asking  vengeance,  he  would  have 
chosen  other  spokesman.     The  earl  asks  but  his  own ; 


HAROLD.  121 

and  thy  head  is  not,  I  trow,  a  part  of  his  goods  and 
chattels." 

"  This  is  comforting,"  said  Mallet.  '*  Marry,  I  thank 
thee,  Sir  Saxon  ;  and  thou  speakest  like  a  brave  man  and 
an  honest.  And  if  we  fall  to  blows,  as  I  suspect  we 
shall,  I  should  deem  it  a  favor  of  our  Lady  the  Virgin 
if  she  send  thee  across  my  way.  Next  to  a  fair  friend,  I 
love  a  bold  foe." 

Yebba  smiled,  for  he  liked  the  sentiment,  and  the  tone 
and  air  of  the  young  knight  pleased  his  rough  mind, 
despite  his  prejudices  against  the  stranger. 

Encouraged  by  the  smile,  Mallet  seated  himself  on  the 
corner  of  the  long  table  that  skirted  the  room,  and  with 
a  debonnair  gesture,  invited  Yebba  to  do  the  same  ;  then 
looking  at  him  gravely,  he  resumed  — 

"  So  frank  and  courteous  thou  art.  Sir  Envoy,  that  I 
yet  intrude  on  thee  my  ignorant  and  curious  questions." 

"Speak  out,  Norman." 

"  How  comes  it,  then,  that  you  English  so  love  this 
Earl  Godwin  ?  —  Still  more,  why  think  you  it  right  and 
proper  that  King  Edward  should  love  him  too  ?  It  is  a 
question  I  have  often  asked,  and  to  which  I  am  not  likely 
in  these  halls  to  get  answer  satisfactory.  If  I  know 
aught  of  your  troublous  history,  this  same  earl  has 
changed  sides  oft  eno' ;  first  for  the  Saxon,  then  for 
Canute  the  Dane  —  Canute  rdies,  and  your  friend  takes 
up  arms  for  the  Saxon  again.  He  yields  to  the  advice 
of  your  Witan,  and  sides  with  Hardicanute  and  Harold, 
the  Danes  —  a  letter,  nathless,  is  written  as  from  Emma, 

I.  — 11 


122  UAROLD. 

the  mother  to  the  young  Saxon  princes,  Edward  and 
Alfred,  inviting  them  over  to  England,  and  promising 
aid  ;  the  saints  protect  Edward,  who  continues  to  say 
aves  in  Normandy  —  Alfred  comes  over.  Earl  Godwin 
meets  him,  and  unless  belied,  does  him  homage,  and 
swears  to  him  faith.  Nay,  listen  yet.  This  Godwin, 
whom  ye  love  so,  then  leads  Alfred  and  his  train  to  the 
ville  of  Guildford,  I  think  ye  call  it, — fair  quarters  enow. 
At  the  dead  of  the  night  rush  in  King  Harold's  men, 
seize  prince  and  follower,  six  hundred  men  in  all ;  and 
next  morning,  saving  only  every  tenth  man,  they  are 
tortured  and  put  to  death.  The  prince  is  borne  off  to 
London,  and  shortly  afterwards  his  eyes  are  torn  out  in 
the  Islet  of  Ely,  and  he  dies  of  the  anguish  I  That  ye 
should  love  Earl  Godwin  withal  may  be  strange,  but  yet 
possible.  But  is  it  possible,  cher  Envoy,  for  the  king  to 
love  the  man  who  thus  betrayed  his  brother  to  the 
shambles  ?  " 

"  All  this  is  a  Norman  fable,"  said  the  Thegn  of  Kent, 
with  a  disturbed  visage  ;  "  and  Godwin  cleared  himself 
on  oath  of  all  share  in  the  foul  murder  of  Alfred." 

"  The  oath,  I  have  heard,  was  backed,"  said  the  knight 
dryly,  "by  a  present  to  Hardicanute,  who,  after  the  death 
of  King  Harold,  resolved  to  avenge  the  black  butchery ; 
a  present,  I  say,  of  a  gilt  ship  manned  by  four-score 
warriors,  with  gold-hilted  swords,  and  gilt  helms. — But 
let  this  pass." 

"Let  it  pass,"  echoed  Yebba,  with  a  sigh.  "Bloody 
were  those  times,  and  unholy  their  secrets." 


HAROLD.  123 

*'  Yet,  answer  me  still,  why  love  you  Earl  Godwin  ? 
He  hath  changed  sides  from  party  to  party,  and  in  each 
change  won  lordships  and  lands.  He  is  ambitious  and 
grasping,  ye  all  allow ;  for  the  ballads  sung  in  your 
streets  liken  him  to  the  thorn  and  the  bramble,  at  which 
the  sheep  leaves  his  wool.  He  is  haughty  and  overbear- 
ing. Tell  me,  0  Saxon,  frank  Saxon,  why  you  love 
Godwin  the  Earl  ?  Fain  would  I  know ;  for,  please  the 
saints  (and  you  and  your  earl  so  permitting),  I  mean  to 
live  and  die  in  this  merrie  England;  and  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  learn  that  I  have  but  to  do  as  Earl  Godwin, 
in  order  to  win  love  from  the  English." 

The  stout  Yebba  looked  perplexed  ;  but  after  stroking 
his  beard  thoughtfully,  he  answered  thus  — 

"  Though  of  Kent,  and  therefore  in  his  earldom,  I  am 
not  one  of  Godwin's  especial  party  ;  for  that  reason  was 
I  chosen  his  bode.  Those  who  are  under  him  doubtless 
love  a  chief  liberal  to  give  and  strong  to  protect.  The 
old  age  of  a  great  leader  gathers  reverence,  as  an  oak 
gathers  moss.  But  to  me,  and  those  like  me,  living 
peaceful  at  home,  shunning  courts,  and  tempting  not 
broils,  Godwin  the  man  is  not  dear  —  it  is  Godwin  the 
thing.  *' 

"  Though  I  do  my  best  to  know  your  language,"  said 
the  knight,  "ye  have  phrases  that  might  puzzle  King 
Solomon.    What  meanest  thou  by  '  Godwin  the  thing  ?  '  " 

"  That  which  to  us  Godwin  only  seems  to  uphold.  We 
love  justice  ;  whatever  his  offences,  Godwin  was  banished 
unjustly.     We  love  our  laws ;  Godwin  was  dishonored 


124  HAROLD. 

by  maintaining  them.  We  love  England,  and  are  devoured 

by    strangers;     Godwin's    cause    is    England's,    and  — 
stranger,  forgive  me  for  not  concluding." 

Then,  examining  the  young  Norman  with  a  look  of 
rough  compassion,  he  laid  his  large  hand  upon  the 
knight's  shoulder  and  whispered, — 

''Take  my  advice  —  and  fly." 

"Fly  I"  said  De  Graville,  reddening.  "Is  it  to  fly, 
think  you,  that  I  have  put  on  my  mail,  and  girded  my 
sword  ?  " 

"  Yain  —  vain  I  Wasps  are  fierce,  but  the  swarm  is 
doomed  when  the  straw  is  kindled.  I  tell  you  this  —  fly 
in  time,  and  you  are  safe ;  but  let  the  king  be  so  mis- 
guided as  to  count  on  arms,  and  strive  against  yon 
multitude,  and  verily  before  nightfall  not  one  Norman 
will  be  found  alive  within  ten  miles  of  the  city.  Look  to 
it,  youth  1  Perhaps  thou  hast  a  mother  —  let  her  not 
mourn  a  son  !  " 

Before  the  Norman  could  shape  into  Saxon  sufficiently 
polite  and  courtly  his  profound  and  indignant  disdain  of 
the  counsel,  his  sense  of  the  impertinence  with  which  his 
shoulder  had  been  profaned,  and  his  mother's  son  had 
been  warned,  the  nuncius  was  again  summoned  into  the 
presence-chamber.  Nor  did  he  return  into  the  ante-room, 
but  conducted  forthwith  from  the  council  —  his  brief 
answer  received  —  to  the  stairs  of  the  palace,  he  reached 
the  boat  in  which  he  had  come,  and  was  rowed  back  to 
the  ship  that  held  the  earl  and  his  sons. 

Now  this  was  the  manoeuvre  of  Godwin's  array.     His 


HAROLD.  125 

vessels  having  passed  London  Bridge,  had  rested  auhile 
on  the  banks  of  the  Southward  suburb  (South-weorde) 
—  since  called  Southwark  —  and  the  king's  ships  lay  to 
the  north ;  but  the  fleet  of  the  earl's,  after  a  brief  halt, 
veered  majestically  round,  and  coming  close  to  the  palace 
of  Westminster,  inclined  northward,  as  if  to  hem  the 
king's  ships.  Meanwhile  the  land  forces  drew  up  close 
to  the  Strand,  almost  within  bow-shot  of  the  king's 
troops,  that  kept  the  ground  inland  ;  thus  Yebba  saw 
before  him,  so  near  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from 
each  other,  on  the  river  the  rival  fleets,  on  the  shore  the 
rival  armaments. 

High  above  all  the  vessels  towered  the  majestic  bark, 
or  sesca,  that  had  borne  Harold  from  the  Irish  shores. 
Its  fashion  was  that  of  the  ancient  sea-kings,  to  one  of 
whom  it  had  belonged.  Its  curved  and  mighty  prow, 
richly  gilded,  stood  out  far  above  the  waves :  the  prow, 
the  head  of  the  sea-snake ;  the  stern  its  spire ;  head  and 
spire  alike  glittering  in  the  sun. 

The  boat  drew  up  to  the  lofty  side  of  the  vessel,  a 
ladder  was  lowered,  the  nuncius  ascended  lightly  and 
stood  on  deck.  At  the  farther  end  grouped  the  sailors, 
few  in  number,  and  at  respectful  distance  from  the  earl 
and  his  sous. 

Godwin  himself  was  but  half-armed.  His  head  was 
bare,  nor  had  he  other  weapon  of  offence  than  the  gilt 
battle-axe  of  the  Danes  —  weapon  as  much  of  ofiBce  as 
of  war ;  but  his  broad  breast  was  covered  with  the  ring- 
mail  of  the  time.  His  stature  was  lower  than  that  of 
11* 


12G  HAROLD. 

any  of  his  sons  ;  nor  did  his  form  exhibit  greater  physi- 
cal strength  than  that  of  a  man,  well-shaped,  robust,  and 
deep  of  chest,  who  still  preserved  in  age  the  pith  and 
sinew  of  mature  manhood.  Neither,  indeed,  did  legend 
or  fame  ascribe  to  that  eminent  personage  those  romantic 
achievements,  those  feats  of  purely  animal  prowess,  which 
distinguished  his  rival  Siward.  Brave  he  was,  but  brave 
as  a  leader ;  those  faculties  in  which  he  appears  to  have 
excelled  all  his  contemporaries,  were  more  analogous  to 
the  requisites  of  success  in  civilized  times,  than  those 
which  won  renown  of  old.  And  perhaps  England  was 
the  only  country  then  in  Europe  which  could  have  given 
to  those  faculties  their  fitting  career.  He  possessed  essen- 
tially the  arts  of  party ;  he  knew  how  to  deal  with  vast 
masses  of  mankind  ;  he  could  carry  along  with  its  inter- 
ests the  fervid  heart  of  the  multitude  ;  he  had  in  the 
highest  degree  that  gift,  useless  in  most  other  lands  —  in 
all  lands  where  popular  assemblies  do  not  exist — the  gift 
of  popular  eloquence.  Ages  elapsed,  after  the  Norman 
conquest,  ere  eloquence  again  became  a  power  in  Eng- 
land.* 

But  like  all  men  renowned  for  eloquence,  he  went  with 
the  popular  feeling  of  his  times  ;  he  embodied  its  passions, 
its  prejudices  —  but  also  that  keen  sense  of  self-interest, 
which  is  the  invariable  characteristic  of  a  multitude.  He 
was  the  sense  of  the  commonalty  carried  to  its  highest 
degree.     Whatever  the  faults,  it  may  be  the  crimes,  of  a 

*  When  the  chronicler  praises  the  gift  of  speech,  he  uncon- 
sciously proves  the  existence  of  constitutional  freedom. 


HAROLD.  127 

career  singularly  prosperous  and  splendid,  amidst  events 
the  darkest  and  most  terrible,  —  shining  with  a  steady 
light  across  the  thunder-clouds,  —  he  was  never  accused 
of  cruelty  or  outrage  to  the  mass  of  the  people.  Eng- 
lish, emphatically,  the  English  deemed  him  ;  and  this  not 
the  less  that  in  his  youth  he  had  sided  with  Canut-e,  and 
owed  his  fortunes  to  that  king ;  for  so  intermixed  were 
Danes  and  Saxons  in  England,  that  the  agreement  which 
had  given  to  Canute  one  half  the  kingdom,  had  been 
received  with  general  applause  :  and  the  earlier  severities 
of  that  great  prince  had  been  so  redeemed  in  his  later 
years  by  wisdom  and  mildness  —  so,  even  in  the  worst 
period  of  his  reign,  relieved  by  extraordinary  personal 
affability,  and  so  lost  now  in  men's  memories  by  pride  in 
his  power  and  fame, —  that  Canute  had  left  behind  hinr  a 
beloved  and  honored  name,*  and  Godwin  was  the  more 
esteemed  as  the  chosen  counsellor  of  that  popular  prince. 
At  his  death,  Godwin  was  known  to  have  wished,  and 
even  armed,  for  the  restoration  of  the  Saxon  line  ;  and 
only  yielded  to  the  determination  of  the  Witan,  no  doubt 
acted  upon  by  the  popular  opinion.  Of  one  dark  crime 
he  was  suspected ;  and,  despite  his  oath  to  the  contrary, 
and  the  formal  acquittal  of  the  national  council,  doubt 
of  his  guilt  rested  then,  as  it  rests  still,  upon  his  name  ; 

*  Eecent  Danish  historians  have  in  vain  endeavored  to  detract 
from  the  reputation  of  Canute  as  an  English  monarch.  The  Danes 
are,  doubtless,  the  best  authorities  for  his  character  in  Denmark. 
But  our  own  English  authorities  are  sufficiently  decisive  as  to  the 
personal  popularity  of  Canute  in  this  country,  and  the  aflfection 
entertained  for  his  laws. 


128  HAROLD. 

viz.  the  perfidions  surrcrider  of  Alfred,  Edward's  mur- 
dered brother. 

But  time  had  passed  over  the  dismal  tragedy ;  and 
there  was  an  instinctive  and  prophetic  feeling  throughout 
the  English  nation,  that  with  the  House  of  Godwin  was 
identified  the  cause  of  the  English  people.  Everything 
in  this  man's  aspect  served  to  plead  in  his  favor.  His 
ample  brows  w^ere  calm  with  benignity  and  thought ;  his 
large,  dark-blue  eyes  were  serene  and  mild,  though  their 
expression,  when  examined,  was  close  and  inscrutable. 
His  mien  was  singularly  noble,  but  wholly  without  for- 
mality or  affected  state ;  and  though  haughtiness  and 
arrogance  were  largely  attributed  to  him,  they  could  be 
found  only  in  his  deeds,  not  manner  —  plain,  familiar, 
kindly  to  all  men,  his  heart  seemed  as  open  to  the  service 
of  his  countrymen  as  his  hospitable  door  to  their  wants. 

Behind  him  stood  the  stateliest  group  of  sons  that  ever 
filled  with  pride  a  father's  eye.  Each  strikingly  distin- 
guished from  the  other,  all  remarkable  for  beauty  of 
countenance  and  strength  of  frame. 

Sweyn,  the  eldest,*  had  the  dark  hues  of  his  mother, 

*  Some  of  our  historians  erroneously  represent  Harold  as  the 
eldest  son.  But  Florence,  the  best  authority  we  have,  in  the  silence 
of  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  as  well  as  Knyghton,  distinctly  states  Sweyn 
to  be  the  eldest;  Harold  was  the  second,  and  Tostig  was  the  third. 
Sweyn's  seniority  seems  corroborated  by  the  greater  importance 
of  his  earldom.  The  Norman  chroniclers,  in  their  spite  to  Harold, 
wish  to  make  him  junior  to  Tostig — for  the  reasons  evident  at  the 
close  of  this  work.  And  the  Norwegian  chronicler,  Snorro  Sturle- 
son,  says  that  Harold  was  the  youngest  of  all  the  sons ;  so  little 
was  really  known,  or  cared  to  be  accurately  known  of  that  great 
house  which  so  nearly  founded  a  new  dynasty  of  English  kings. 


HAROLD.  129 

the  Dane  :  a  wild  and  mournful  majesty  sat  upon  features 
aquiline  and  regular,  but  wasted  by  grief  or  passion  ; 
raven  locks,  glossy  even  in  neglect,  fell  half  over  eyes 
hollow  in  their  sockets,  but  bright,  though  with  troubled 
fire.  Over  his  shoulder  he  wore  his  mighty  axe.  His 
form,  spare,  but  of  immense  power,  was  sheathed  in  mail, 
and  he  leant  on  his  great  pointed  Danish  shield.  At  his 
feet  sat  his  young  son:  Haco,  a  boy  with  a  countenance 
preternaturally  thoughtful  for  his  years,  which  were  yet 
those  of  childhood. 

Next  to  him  stood  the  most  dreaded  and  ruthless  of 
the  sons  of  Godwin  —  he,  fated  to  become  to  the  Saxon 
what  Julian  was  to  the  Goth.  With  his  arms  folded  on 
his  breast  stood  Tostig;  his  face  was  beautiful  as  a 
Greek's,  in  all  save  the  forehead,  which  was  low  and 
lowering.  Sleek  and  trim  were  his  bright  chesnut  locks  ; 
and  his  arms  were  damascened  with  silver,  for  he  was 
one  who  loved  the  pomp  and  luxury  of  war. 

Wolnoth,  the  mother's  favorite,  seemed  yet  in  the  first 
flower  of  youth,  but  he  alone  of  all  the  sons  had  some- 
thing irresolute  and  effeminate  in  his  aspect  and  bearing ; 
his  form,  though  tall,  had  not  yet  come  to  its  full  height 
and  strength ;  and,  as  if  the  weight  of  mail  were  unusual 
to  him,  he  leant  with  both  hands  upon  the  wood  of  his 
long  spear.  Leofwine,  who  stood  next  to  Wolnoth,  con- 
trasted him  notably  ;  his  sunny  locks  wreathed  carelessly 
over  a  white  unclouded  brow,  and  the  silken  hair  on  the 
upper  lip  quivered  over  arch  lips,  smiling,  even  in  that 
serious  hour. 

I 


130  HAROLD. 

At  Godwin's  right  hand,  bnt  not  immediately  near 
him,  stood  the  last  of  the  group,  Gurth  and  Harold. 
Gurth  had  passed  his  arm  over  the  shoulder  of  his  bro- 
ther, and  not  watching  the  nuncius  while  he  spoke, 
watched  only  the  effect  his  words  produced  on  the  face 
of  Harold.  For  Gurth  loved  Harold  as  Jonathan  loved 
David.  And  Harold  was  the  only  one  of  the  group  not 
armed  ;  and  had  a  veteran  skilled  in  war  been  asked  who 
of  that  group  was  born  to  lead  armed  men,  he  would 
have  pointed  to  the  man  unarmed. 

"So  what  says  the  king?"  asked  Earl  Godwin. 

"  This  :  he  refuses  to  restore  thee  and  thy  sons,  or  to 
hear  thee,  till  thou  hast  disbanded  thine  army,  dismissed 
thy  ships,  and  consented  to  clear  thyself  and  thy  house 
before  the  Witanagemot." 

A  fierce  laugh  broke  from  Tostig ;  Sweyn's  mournful 
brow  grew  darker  ;  Leofwine  placed  his  right  hand  on 
his  ateghar ;  Wolnoth  rose  erect ;  Gurth  kept  his  eyes 
on  Harold,  and  Harold's  face  was  unmoved. 

"  The  king  received  thee  in  his  council  of  war,-'  said 
Godwin,  thoughtfully,  "  and  doubtless  the  Normans  were 
there.     Who  were  the  Englishmen  most  of  mark?" 

"Siward  of  Northumbria,  thy  foe." 

"My  sons,"  said  the  earl,  turning  to  his  children,  and 
breathing  loud  as  if  a  load  were  off  his  heart;  "there 
will  be  no  need  of  axe  or  armor  to-day.  Harold  alone 
was  wise,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  linen  tunic  of  the  son 
thus  cited. 

"  What  mean  you.  Sir  Father  ? "  said  Tostig  im- 
periously.    "Think  you  to " 


HAROLD.  131 

"Peace,  son,  peace;"  said  Godwin,  without  asperity, 
but  with  conscious  command.  "  Return,  brave  and  dear 
friend,"  he  said  to  Yebba,  "find  out  Siward  the  earl; 
tell  him  that  I,  Godwin,  his  foe  in  the  old  time,  place 
honor  and  life  in  his  hands,  and  what  he  counsels  that 
will  we  do.  —  Go." 

The  Kentman  nodded,  and  regained  his  boat.  Then 
spoke  Harold. 

"  Father,  yonder  are  the  forces  of  Edward ;  as  yet 
without  leaders,  since  the  chiefs  must  be  still  in  the  halls 
of  the  king.  Some  fiery  Norman  amongst  them  may 
provoke  an  encounter  ;  and  this  city  of  London  is  not 
won,  as  it  behoves  us  to  win  it,  if  one  drop  of  English 
blood  dye  the  sword  of  one  Englishman.  Wherefore, 
with  your  leave,  I  will  take  boat,  and  land.  And  unless 
I  have  lost  in  my  absence  all  right  lere  in  the  hearts  of 
our  countrymen,  at  the  first  shout  from  our  troops  which 
proclaims  that  Harold,  son  of  Godwin,  is  on  the  soil  of 
our  fathers,  half  yon  array  of  spears  and  helms  pass  at 
once  to  our  side." 

"And  if  not,  my  vain  brother  ?"  said  Tostig,  gnawing 
his  lip  with  envy. 

"And  if  not,  I  will  ride  alone  into  the  midst  of  them, 
and  ask  what  Englishmen  are  there  who  will  aim  shaft 
or  spear  at  this  breast,  never  mailed  against  England ! " 

Godwin  placed  his  hand  on  Harold's  head,  and  the 
tears  came  to  those  close  cold  eyes. 

"  Thou  knowest  by  nature  what  I  have  learned  by  art. 
Go,  and  prosper.     Be  it  as  thou  wilt." 


132  HAROLD. 

"  He  takes  thy  post,  Sweyn— thou  art  the  elder,"  said 
Tostig,  to  the  wild  form  by  his  side. 

"  There  is  guilt  on  my  soul,  and  woe  in  my  heart," 
answered  Sweyn,  moodily.  "  Shall  Esau  lose  his  birth- 
right, and  Cain  retain  it  ? "  So  saying,  he  withdrew, 
and,  reclining  against  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  leant  his 
face  upon  the  edge  of  his  shield. 

Harold  watched  him  with  deep  compassion  in  his  eyes, 
passed  to  his  side  with  a  quick  step,  pressed  his  hand, 
and  whispered,  "  Peace  to  the  past,  0  my  brother  I " 

The^boy  Haco,  who  had  noiselessly  followed  his  father, 
lifted  his  sombre,  serious  looks  to  Harold  as  he  thus 
spoke  ;  and  when  Harold  turned  away,  he  said  to  Sweyn, 
timidly,  ''He,  at  least,  is  ever  good  to  thee  and  to  me." 

"And  thou,  when  I  am  no  more,  shalt  cling  to  him  as 
thy  father,  Haco,"  answered  Sweyn,  tenderly  smoothing 
back  the  child's  dark  locks. 

The  boy  shivered  ;  and,  bending  his  head,  murmured 
to  himself,  "  When  thou  art  no  more  I  No  more  I  Has 
the  Yala  doomed  him,  too  ?     Father  and  son,  both  ?" 

Meanwhile,  Harold  had  entered  the  boat  lowered  from 
the  sides  of  the  aesca  to  receive  him ;  and  Gurth,  looking 
appealingly  to  his  father,  and  seeing  no  sign  of  dissent, 
sprang  down  after  the  young  earl,  and  seated  himself  by 
his  side. 

Godwin  followed  the  boat  with  musing  eyes. 

"Small  need,"  said  he  aloud,  but  to  himself,  "to  be- 
lieve in  soothsayers,  or  to  credit  Hilda  the  saga,  when 
she  prophesied,  ere  we  left  our  shores,  that  Harold " 


HAROLD.  133 

He  stopped  short,  for  Tostig's  wrathful  exclamation  broke 
on  his  reverie. 

"  Father,  father  I  My  blood  surges  in  my  ears,  and 
boils  in  my  heart,  when  I  hear  thee  name  the  prophecies 
of  Hilda  in  favor  of  thy  darling.  Dissension  and  strife 
in  our  house  have  they  wrought  already;  and  if  the  feuds 
between  Harold  and  me  have  sown  grey  in  thy  locks, 
thank  thyself  when,  flushed  with  vain  soothsayings  for 
thy  favored  Harold,  thou  saidst,  in  the  hour  of  our  first 
childish  broil,  '  Strive  not  with  Harold  ;  for  his  brothers 
will  be  his  men.'  " 

"Falsify  the  prediction,"  said  Godwin  calmly;  "wise 
men  may  always  make  their  own  future,  and  seize  their 
own  fates.  Prudence,  patience,  labor,  valor;  these  are 
the  stars  that  rule  the  career  of  mortals." 

Tostig  made  no  answer ;  for  the  splash  of  oars  was 
near,  and  two  ships,  containing  the  principal  chiefs  that 
had  joined  Godwin's  cause,  came  alongside  the  Runic 
aesca  to  hear  the  result  of  the  message  sent  to  the  king. 
Tosting  sprang  to  the  vessel's  side,  and  exclaimed,  "  The 
king,  girt  by  his  false  counsellors,  will  hear  us  not,  and 
arms  must  decide  between  us." 

"  Hold,  hold  I  malignant,  unhappy  boy  !  "  cried  God- 
win, between  his  grinded  teeth,  as  a  shout  of  indignant, 
yet  joyous  ferocity,  broke  from  the  crowded  ships  thus 
haile^.  "  The  curse  of  all  time  be  on  him  who  draws  the 
first  native  blood  in  sight  of  the  altars  and  hearths  of 
London  !  Hear  me,  thou  with  the  vulture's  blood-lust, 
and  the  peacock's  vain  joy  in  the  gaudy  plume  !     Hear 

I.— 12 


134  HAROLD. 

me,  Tostig,  and  tremble.  If  but  by  one  word  thou  widen 
the  breach  between  me  and  the  king,  outlaw  thou  enterest 
England,  outlaw  shalt  thou  depart  —  for  earldom  and 
broad  lands,  choose  the  bread  of  the  stranger,  and  the 
vveregeld  of  the  wolf  I" 

The  young  Saxon,  haughty  as  he  was,  quailed  at  his 
father's  thrilling  voice,  bowed  his  head,  and  retreated 
sullenly.  Godwin  sprang  on  the  deck  of  the  nearest 
vessel,  and  all  the  passions  that  Tostig  had  aroused,  he 
exerted  his  eloquence  to  appease. 

In  the  midst  of  his  arguments,  there  rose  from  the 
ranks  on  the  strand,  the  shout  of  "  Harold  !  Harold  the 
Earl !  Harold  and  Holy  Crosse  !"  And  Godwin,  turn- 
ing his  eye  to  the  king's  ranks,  saw  them  agitated,  swayed, 
and  moving ;  till  suddenly  from  the  very  heart  of  the 
hostile  array,  came,  as  by  irresistible  impulse,  the  cry  — 
"  Harold,  our  Harold  !     All  hail,  the  good  Earl !  " 

While  this  chanced  without,  —  within  the  palace, 
Edward  had  quitted  the  presence-chamber,  and  was 
closeted  with  Stigand,  the  bishop.  This  prelate  had  the 
more  influence  with  Edward,  inasmuch  as  though  Saxon, 
he  was  held  to  be  no  enemy  to  the  Normans,  and  had, 
indeed  on  a  former  occasion,  been  deposed  from  his 
bishopric  on  the  charge  of  too  great  an  attachment  to 
the  Norman  Queen-mother  Emma.*  Never  in  his  whole 
life  had  Edward  been  so  stubborn  as  on  this  occasion. 

*  Anglo-Saxon  Chrojiicle,  A.  d.  1043.  "Stigand  was  deposed 
from  his  bishopric,  and  all  that  he  possessed  was  seized  into  the 
king's  hands,  because  he  was  received  to  his  mother's  counsel,  and 


HAROLD.  135 

For  here,  more  than  his  realm  was  concerned,  he  was 
threatened  in  the  peace  of  his  household,  and  the  com- 
fort of  his  tepid  friendships.  "With  the  recall  of  his 
powerful  father-in-law,  he  foresaw  the  necessary  reintru- 
sion  of  his  wife  upon  the  charm  of  his  chaste  solitude. 
His  favorite  N'ormans  would  be  banished,  he  should  be 
surrounded  with  faces  he  abhorred.  All  the  representa- 
tions of  IStigand  fell  upon  a  stern  and  unyielding  spirit, 
when  Siward  entered  the  king's  closet. 

"  Sir,  my  king,"  said  the  great  son  of  Beorn,  "  I 
yielded  to  your  kingly  will  in  the  council,  that,  before  we 
listened  to  Godwin,  he  should  disband  his  men,  and  sub- 
mit to  the  judgment  of  the  Witan.  The  earl  hath  sent 
to  me  to  say,  that  he  will  put  honor  and  life  ia  my  keep- 
ing, and  abide  by  my  counsel.  And  I  have  answered  as 
became  the  man  who  will  never  snare  a  foe,  or  betray  a 
trust." 

"How  hast  thou  answered?"  asked  the  king. 

"  That  he  abide  by  the  laws  of  England,  as  Dane  and 
Saxon  agreed  to  abide  in  the  days  of  Canute  ;  that  he 
and  his  sons  shall  make  no  claim  for  land  or  lordship, 
but  submit  all  to  the  Witan." 

"  Good,"  said  the  king  ;  "  and  the  Witan  will  condemn 
him  now,  as  it  would  have  condemned  when  he  shunned 
to  meet  it  ?  " 


she  -went  just  as  he  advised  her,  as  people  thought."  The  saintly 
Confessor  dealt  with  his  bishops  as  summarily  as  Henry  VIII. 
could  have  done,  after  his  quarrel  with  the  Pope. 


136  HAROLD. 

"And  the  Witan  now,"  returned  the  earl,  emphatic- 
ally, "will  be  free,  and  fair,  and  just." 

"And  meanwhile  the  troops " 

"  Will  wait  on  either  side  ;  and  if  reason  fail,  then  the 
sword,"  said  Siward. 

"  This  I  will  not  hear,"  exclaimed  Edward  ;  when  the 
tramp  of  many  feet  thundered  along  the  passage ;  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  several  captains  (Norman  as 
well  as  Saxon)  of  the  king's  troops  rushed  in,  wild,  rude, 
and  tumultuous. 

"  The  troops  desert !  half  their  ranks  have  thrown  down 
their  arms  at  the  very  name  of  Harold  1 "  exclaimed  the 
Earl  of  Hereford.     "  Curses  on  the  knaves  !  " 

"  And  their  lithsmen  of  London,"  cried  a  Saxon  thegn, 
"  are  all  on  his  side,  and  marching  already  through  the 
gates." 

"  Pause  yet,"  whispered  Stigand ;  "  and  who  shall  say, 
this  hour  to-morrow,  if  Edward  or  Godwin  reign  on  the 
throne  of  Alfred  ?  " 

His  stern  heart  moved  by  the  distress  of  his  king,  and 
not  the  less  for  the  unwonted  firmness  which  Edward 
displayed,  Siward  here  approached,  knelt,  and  took  the 
king's  hand. 

"  Siward  can  give  no  niddering  counsel  to  his  king ;  to 
save  the  blood  of  his  subjects  is  never  a  king's  disgrace. 
Yield  thou  to  mercy  —  Godwin  to  the  law!" 

"  Oh  for  the  cowl  and  cell  I "  exclaimed  the  prince, 
wringing  his  hands.  "Oh  Norman  home,  why  did  I 
leave  thee  ?  " 


HAROLD.  137 

He  took  the  cross  from  his  breast,  contemplated  it 
fixedly,  prayed  silently  but  with  fervor,  and  his  face 
again  became  tranquil. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  flinging  himself  on  his  seat  in  the  ex- 
haustion that  follows  passion,  "  Go,  Siward,  go  Stigand, 
deal  with  things  mundane  as  ye  will." 

The  bishop,  satisfied  with  this  reluctant  acquiescence, 
seized  Siward  by  the  arm  and  withdrew  him  from  the 
closet.  The  captains  remained  a  few  moments  behind, 
the  Saxons  silently  gazing  on  the  king,  the  Normans 
whispering  each  other,  in  great  doubt  and  trouble,  and 
darting  looks  of  the  bitterest  scorn  at  their  feeble  bene- 
factor. Then,  as  with  one  accord,  these  last  rushed 
along  the  corridor,  gained  the  hall  where  their  country- 
men yet  assembled,  and  exclaimed,  "A  toute  bride  !  Franc 
etrierl  —  All  is  lost  but  life  !  —  God  for  the  first  man, — 
knife  and  cord  for  the  last ! " 

Then,  as  the  cry  of  fire,  or  as  the  first  crash  of  an 
earthquake,  dissolves  all  union,  and  reduces  all  emotion 
into  one  thought  of  self-saving,  the  whole  conclave, 
crowding  pell-mell  on  each  other,  bustled,  jostled, 
clamored  to  the  door — happy  he  who  could  find  horse — 
palfrey,  —  even  monk's  mule  !  This  way,  that  way,  fled 
those  lordly  Normans,  those  martial  abbots,  those  mitred 
bishops  —  some  singly,  some  in  pairs ;  some  by  tens,  and 
some  by  scores ;  but  all  prudently  shunning  association 
with  those  chiefs  whom  they  had  most  courted  the  day 
before,  and  who,  they  now  knew,  would  be  the  main 
mark  for  revenge  ;  save  only  two,  who  yet,  from  that  awe 
12* 


138  HAROLD. 

of  the  spiritual  power  which  characterized  the  Norman, 
who  was  already  half  monk,  half  soldier,  (Crusader  and 
Templar  before  Crusades  were  yet  preached,  or  the  Tem- 
plars yet  dreamed  of), — even  in  that  hour  of  selfish  panic 
rallied  round  them  the  prowest  chivalry  of  their  country- 
men, viz.,  the  Bishop  of  London  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Both  these  dignitaries,  armed  cap-d-pie, 
and  spear  in  hand,  headed  the  flight ;  and  good  service 
that  day,  both  as  guide  and  champion,  did  Mallet  de 
Graville.  He  led  them  in  a  circuit  behind  both  armies, 
but  being  intercepted  by  a  new  body,  coming  from  the 
pastures  of  Hertfordshire  to  the  help  of  Godwin,  he  was 
compelled  to  take  the  bold  and  desperate  resort  of  enter- 
ing the  city  gates.  These  were  wide  open  ;  whether  to 
admit  the  Saxon  earls,  or  vomit  forth  their  allies,  the 
Londoners.  Through  these,  up  the  narrow  streets,  riding 
three  a-breast,  dashed  the  slaughtering  fugitives ;  worthy 
in  flight  of  their  national  renown,  they  trampled  down 
every  obstacle.  Bodies  of  men  drew  up  against  them  at 
every  angle,  with  the  Saxon  cry  of  "  Out  I  —  Out!" 
"  Down  with  the  outland  men  !  "  Through  each,  spear 
pierced,  and  sword  clove  the  way.  Red  with  gore  was 
the  spear  of  the  prelate  of  London ;  broken  to  the  hilt 
was  the  sword  militant  in  the  terrible  hand  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  So  on  they  rode,  so  on  they 
slaughtered  —  gained  the  Eastern  Gate,  and  passed  with 
but  two  of  their  number  lost. 

The  fields  once  gained,  for  better  precaution  they  se- 
parated.    Some  few,  not  quite  ignorant  of  the  Saxon 


HAROLD.  139 

tongue,  doffed  their  mail,  and  crept  through  forest  and 
fell  towards  the  sea-shore ;  others  retained  steed  and 
arms,  but  shunned  equally  the  high  roads.  The  two  pre- 
lates were  among  the  last ;  they  gained,  in  safety,  Ness, 
in  Essex,  threw  themselves  into  an  open,  crazy,  fishing- 
boat,  committed  themselves  to  the  waves,  and,  half 
drowned  and  half  famished,  drifted  over  the  Channel  to 
the  French  shores.  Of  the  rest  of  the  courtly  foreigners, 
some  took  refuge  in  the  forts  yet  held  by  their  country- 
men ;  some  lay  concealed  in  creeks  and  caves  till  they 
could  find  or  steal  boats  for  their  passage.  And  thus,  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  1052,  occurred  the  notable  disper- 
sion and  ignominious  flight  of  the  counts  and  vavasours 
of  great  William  the  Duke  I 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  Witana-gemot  was  assembled  in  the  Great  Hall 
of  Westminster  in  all  its  imperial  pomp. 

It  was  on  his  throne  that  the  King  sate  now  —  and  it 
was  the  sword  that  was  in  his  right  hand.  Some  seated 
below,  and  some  standing  beside,  the  throne,  were  the 
officers  of  the  Basileus*  of  Britain.     There,  were  to  be 

*  The  title  of  Ba?ileus  was  retained  by  our  kings  so  late  as  the 
time  of  John,  who  styled  himself  "  Totius  Insuloe  Biitannicas  Ba- 
sileus."— Agard  :  On  the  Antiquity  of  Shires  in  England,  ap  Hearne, 
Cur.  Disc, 


140  HAROLD. 

seen  camararius  and  pincerna,  chamberlain  and  cup- 
bearer ;  disc  thegn  and  hors  tliegn  :  *  the  thegn  of  the 
dishes,  and  the  thegn  of  the  stud  ;  with  many  more,  whose 
state  ofiSces  may  not  impossibly  have  been  borrowed  from 
the  ceremonial  pomp  of  the  Byzantine  court ;  for  Edgar, 
King  of  England,  had  in  the  old  time  styled  himself  the 
Heir  of  Constantine.  Next  to  these  sat  the  clerks  of  the 
chapel,  with  the  King's  confessor  at  their  head.  Officers 
were  they  of  higher  note  than  their  name  bespeaks,  and 
wielders,  in  the  trust  of  the  Great  Seal,  of  a  power  un- 
known of  old,  and  now  obnoxious  to  the  Saxon.  For 
tedious  is  the  suit  which  lingers  for  the  king's  writ  and 
the  king's  seal ;  and  from  those  clerks  shall  arise  hereafter 
a  thing  of  torture  and  of  might,  which  shall  grind  out 
the  hearts  of  men,  and  be  called  Chancery  !  | 

Below  the  scribes,  a  space  was  left  on  the  floor,  and 
farther  down  sat  the  chiefs  of  the  Witan.  Of  these,  first 
in  order,  both  from  their  spiritual  rank  and  their  vast 
temporal  possessions,  sat  the  Lords  of  the  Church ;  the 
chairs  of  the  prelates  of  London  and  Canterbury  were 
void.  But  still  goodly  was  the  array  of  Saxon  mitres, 
with  the  harsh,  hungry,  but  intelligent  face  of  Stigand, — 

*  Sharon  Turner. 

f  See  the  Introduction  to  Palgrave's  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons, 
from  which  this  description  of  the  Witan  is  borrowed  so  largely, 
that  I  am  left  without  other  apology  for  the  plagiarism,  than  the 
frank  confession,  that  if  I  could  have  found  in  others,  or  conceived 
from  my  own  resources,  a  description  half  as  graphic  and  half  as 
accurate,  I  would  only  have  plagiarized  to  half  the  extent  I  have 
done. 


HAROLD.  141 

Stigand  the  stout  and  the  covetous ;  and  the  benign  but 
firm  features  of  Alfred,  true  priest  and  true  patriot,  dis- 
tinguished amidst  all.  Around  each  prelate,  as  stars 
round  a  sun,  were  his  own  special  priestly  retainers,  se- 
lected from  his  diocese.  Farther  still  down  the  hall  are 
the  great  civil  lords  and  vice-king  vassals  of  the  "  Lord- 
Paramount,"  Yacant  the  chair  of  the  King  of  the  Scots, 
for  Siward  hath  not  yet  had  his  wish  ;  Macbeth  is  in  his 
fastnesses,  or  listening  to  the  weird  sisters  in  the  wold  ; 
and  Malcolm  is  a  fugitive  in  the  halls  of  the  Northum- 
brian earl.  Yacant  the  chair  of  the  hero  Gryffyth,  son 
of  Llewelyn,  the  dread  of  the  marches.  Prince  of  Gwyned, 
whose  arms  had  subjugated  all  Cymry.  But  there,  are 
the  lesser  sub-kings  of  Wales,  true  to  the  immemorial 
schisms  amongst  themselves,  which  destroyed  the  realm 
of  Ambrosius,  and  rendered  vain  the  arm  of  Arthur. 
With  their  torques  of  gold,  and  wild  eyes,  and  hair  cut 
round  ears  and  brow,*  they  stare  on  the  scene. 

On  the  same  bench  with  these  sub-kings,  distinguished 
from  them  by  height  of  stature,  and  calm  collectedness 
of  mien,  no  less  than  by  their  caps  of  maintenance  and 
furred  robes,  are  those  props  of  strong  thrones  and 
terrors  of  weak  —  the  earls  to  whom  shires  and  counties 
fall,  as  hyde  and  carricate  to  the  lesser  thegns.  But  three 
of  these  were  then  present,  and  all  three  the  foes  of 
Godwin  —  Siward,  Earl  of  Northumbria ;  Leofric,  of 
Mercia  (that  Leofric  whose  wife   Godiva   yet  lives  in 

*  Girald.  Gambrensis. 


142  HAROLD. 

ballad  and  song)  ;  and  Kolf,  Earl  of  Hereford  and  Wor- 
cestershire, who,  strong  in  his  claim  of  "  king's  blood," 
left  not  the  court  with  his  Norman  friends.  And  on  the 
same  benches,  though  a  little  apart,  are  the  lesser  earls, 
and  that  higher  order  of  thegns,  called  king's  thegns. 

Not  far  from  these  sat  the  chosen  citizens  from  the 
free  burgh  of  London,  already  of  great  weight  in  the 
senate,*  —  suflBcing  often  to  turn  its  counsels  ;  all  friends 
were  they  of  the  English  Earl  and  his  house.  In  the 
same  division  of  the  hall  were  found  the  bulk  and  true 
popular  part  of  the  meeting — popular  indeed — as  repre- 
senting not  the  people,  but  the  things  the  people  most 
prized — valor  and  wealth  ;  the  thegn  land-owners,  called 
in  the  old  deeds  the  "  Ministers  : "  they  sate  with  swords 
by  their  side,  all  of  varying  birth,  fortune,  and  connection, 
whether  with  king,  earl,  or  ceorl.  For  in  the  different 
districts  of  the  old  Heptarchy,  the  qualification  varied ; 
high  in  East  Anglia,  low  in  Wessex ;  so  that  what  was 
wealth  in  the  one  shire  was  poverty  in  the  other.  There 
sate,  half  a  yeoman,  the  Saxon  thegn  of  Berkshire  or 
Dorset,  proud  of  his  five  hydes  of  land ;  there,  half  an 
ealderman,  the  Danish  thegn  of  Norfolk  or  Ely,  discon- 
tented with  his  forty ;  some  were  there  in  right  of  smaller 
offices  under  the  crown ;  some  traders,  and  sons  of 
traders,  for  having  crossed  the  high  seas  three  times  at 

*  Palgrave  omits,  I  presume  accidentally,  these  members  of  the 
Witan,  but  it  is  clear  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  that  the 
London  "  lithsmen  "  were  represented  in  the  great  National  Witans, 
and  helped  to  decide  the  election  even  of  kings. 


HAROLD.  143 

their  own  risk  ;  some  could  boast  the  blood  of  Offa  and 
Egbert ;  and  some  traced  but  three  generations  back  to 
neat-herd  and  ploughman  ;  and  some  were  Saxons,  and 
some  were  Danes ;  and  some  from  the  western  shires 
were  by  origin  Britons,  though  little  cognizant  of  their 
race.  Farther  down  still,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  hall, 
crowding  by  the  open  doors,  filling  up  the  space  without, 
were  the  ceorls  themselves,  a  vast  and  not  powerless 
body :  in  these  high  courts  (distinct  from  the  shire 
gemots,  or  local  senates)  — never  called  upon  to  vote  or 
to  speak  or  to  act,  or  even  to  sign  names  to  the  doom, 
but  only  to  shout  "  Yea,  yea,"  when  the  proceres  pro- 
nounced their  sentence.  Yet  not  powerless  were  they, 
but  rather  to  the  Witan,  what  public  opinion  is  to  the 
Witan's  successor,  our  modern  parliament :  they  were 
opinion  !  And  according  to  their  numbers  and  their 
sentiments,  easily  known  and  boldly  murmured,  often  and 
often  must  that  august  court  of  basileus  and  prelate, 
vassal-king  and  mighty  earl,  have  shaped  the  council  and 
adjudged  the  doom. 

And  the  forms  of  the  meeting  had  been  duly  said  and 
done ;  and  the  king  had  spoken  words,  no  doubt  wary 
and  peaceful,  gracious  and  exhortatory ;  but  those  words 
— for  his  voice  that  day  was  weak — travelled  not  beyond 
the  small  circle  of  his  clerks  and  his  officers ;  and  a 
murmur  buzzed  through  the  hall,  when  Earl  Godwin 
stood  on  the  floor  with  his  six  sons  at  his  back  ;  and 
you  might  have  heard  the  hum  of  the  gnat  that  vexed 
the  smooth  cheek  of  Earl  Rolf,  or  the  click  of  the  spider 


144  HAROLD. 

from  the  web  on  the  vaulted  roof,  the  moment  before 
Earl  Godwin  spoke. 

"If,"  said  he,  with  the  modest  look  and  downcast  eye 
of  practised  eloquence,  "if  I  rejoice  once  more  to  breathe 
the  air  of  England,  in  whose  service,  often  perhaps  with 
faulty  deeds,  but  at  all  times  with  honest  thoughts,  I 
have,  both  in  war  and  council,  devoted  so  much  of  my 
life  that  little  now  remains  —  but  (should  you,  my  king, 
and  you,  prelates,  proceres,  and  ministers  so  vouchsafe) 
to  look  round  and  select  that  spot  of  my  native  soil 
which  shall  receive  my  bones; — if  I  rejoice  to  stand 
once  more  in  that  assembly  which  has  often  listened  to 
my  voice  when  our  common  country  was  in  peril,  who 
here  will  blame  that  joy  ?  Who  among  my  foes,  if  foes 
now  I  have,  will  not  respect  the  old  man's  gladness  ? 
Who  amongst  you,  earls  and  thegns,  would  not  grieve, 
if  his  duty  bade  him  say  to  the  grey-haired  exile,  *Iu 
this  English  air  you  shall  not  breathe-  your  last  sigh  — 
on  this  English  soil  you  shall  not  find  a  grave  ! '  Who 
amongst  you  would  not  grieve  to  say  it  ?  "  (Suddenly 
he  drew  up  his  head  and  faced  his  audience.)  "  Who 
amongst  you  hath  the  courage  and  the  heart  to  say  it  ? 
Yes,  I  rejoice  that  I  am  at  last  in  an  assembly  fit  to 
judge  my  cause,  and  pronounce  my  innocence.  For 
what  offence  was  I  outlawed  ?  For  what  offence  were  I, 
and  the  six  sons  I  have  given  to  ray  land,  to  bear  the 
w^olf's  penalty,  and  l)e  cliased  and  slain  as  the  wild  beasts  ? 
Hear  me,  and  answer  I 

"Eustace,  Count  of  Boulogne,  returning  to  his  domains 


HAROLD.  145 

from  a  visit  to  our  lord  the  King,  entered  the  town  of 
Dover  in  mail  and  on  his  war-steed  ;  his  train  did  the 
same.  Unknowing  our  laws  and  customs  (for  I  desire 
to  press  light  upon  all  old  grievances,  and  will  impute 
ill  designs  to  none),  these  foreigners  invade  by  force  the 
private  dwellings  of  citizens,  and  there  select  their  quai'- 
ters.  Ye  all  know  that  this  was  the  strongest  violation 
of  Saxon  right ;  ye  know  that  the  meanest  ceorl  hath 
the  proverb  on  his  lip,  'Every  man's  house  is  his  castle.' 
One  of  the  townsmen  acting  on  this  belief — which  I 
have  yet  to  learn  was  a  false  one  —  expelled  from  his 
threshold  a  retainer  of  the  French  Earl's.  The  stranger 
drew  his  sword  and  wounded  him;  blows  followed  — 
the  stranger  fell  by  the  arm  he  had  provoked.  The  news 
arrives  to  Earl  Eustace  ;  he  and  his  kinsmen  spur  to 
the  spot ;  they  murder  the  Englishman  on  his  hearth- 
stone.  " 

Here  a  groan,  half-stifled  and  wrathful,  broke  from 
the  ceorls  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  Godwin  held  up  his 
hand  in  rebuke  of  the  interruption,  and  resumed : 

"This  deed  done,  the  outlanders  rode  through  the 
streets  with  their  drawn  swords;  they  butchered  those 
who  came  in  their  way ;  they  trampled  even  children 
under  their  horses'  feet.  The  burghers  armed.  I  thank 
the  Divine  Father,  who  gave  me  for  my  countrymen 
those  gallant  burghers  !  They  fought,  as  we  English 
know  how  to  fight ;  they  slew  some  nineteen  or  more  of 
these  mailed  intruders  ;  they  chased  them  from  the  town. 
Earl  Eustace  fled  fast.     Earl  Eustace  we  know  is  a  wise 

I. —  13  K 


146  HAROLD. 

man :  small  rest  took  he,  little  bread  broke  he,  till  he 
pulled  reiu  at  the  gate  of  Gloucester,  where  my  lord  the 
king  then  held  court.  He  made  his  complaint.  My 
lord  the  king,  naturally  hearing  but  one  side,  thought 
the  burghers  in  the  wrong ;  and,  scandalized  that  such 
high  persons  of  his  own  kith  should  be  so  aggrieved,  he 
sent  for  me,  in  whose  government  the  burgh  of  Dover  is, 
and  bade  me  chastise,  by  military  execution,  those  who 
had  attacked  the  foreign  Count.  I  appeal  to  the  great 
Earls  whom  I  see  before  me — to  you,  illustrious  Leofric ; 
to  you,  renowned  Siward  —  what  value  would  ye  set  on 
your  earldoms,  if  ye  had  not  the  heart  and  the  power  to 
see  right  done  to  the  dwellers  therein  ? 

"  What  was  the  course  I  proposed  ?  Instead  of  mar- 
tial execution,  which  would  involve  the  whole  burgh  in 
one  sentence,  I  submitted  that  the  reeve  and  gerefas  of 
the  burgh  should  be  cited  to  appear  before  the  king,  and 
account  for  the  broil.  My  lord,  though  ever  most  cle- 
ment and  loving  to  his  good  people,  either  unhappily 
moved  against  me,  or  over-swayed  by  the  foreigners,  was 
counselled  to  reject  this  mode  of  doing  justice,  which  our 
laws,  as  settled  under  Edgar  and  Canute,  enjoin.  And 
because  I  would  not,  —  and  I  say  in  the  presence  of  all, 
because  I,  Godwin  son  of  Wolnoth,  durst  not,  if  I  would, 
have  entered  the  free  burgh  of  Dover  with  mail  on  my 
back  and  the  dooms-man  at  my  right  hand,  these  out- 
landers  induced  my  lord  the  king  to  summon  me  to  at- 
tend in  person  (as  for  a  sin  of  my  own)  the  council  of 
the  Witan,  convened  at  Gloucester,  then  filled  with  the 


HAROLD.  147 

foreigners,  not,  as  I  humbly  opined,  to  do  justice  to  me 
and  ray  folk  of  X>over,  but  to  secure  to  this  Count  of 
Boulogne  a  triumph  over  English  liberties,  and  sanction 
his  scorn  for  the  value  of  English  lives. 

"  I  hesitated,  and  was  menaced  with  outlawry  ;  I  armed 
in  self-defence,  and  in  defence  of  the  laws  of  England  ;  I 
armed  that  men  might  not  be  murdered  on  their  hearth- 
stones, nor  children  trampled  under  the  hoofs  of  a 
stranger's  war-steed.  My  lord  the  king  gathered  his 
troops  round  'the  cross  and  the  martlets.'  Yon  noble 
earls,  Siward  and  Leofric,  came  to  that  standard,  as 
(knowing  not  then  my  cause)  was  their  duty  to  the 
Basileus  of  Britain.  But  when  they  knew  my  cause,  and 
saw  icith  me  th^  dwellers  of  the  \2iX\di,<igaiinst  me  the  out- 
land  aliens,  they  righteously  interposed.  An  armistice 
was  concluded ;  I  agreed  to  refer  all  matters  to  a  Witan 
held  where  it  is  held  this  day.  My  troops  were  disbanded  : 
but  the  foreigners  induced  my  lord  not  only  to  retain  his 
own,  but  to  issue  his  Herrbann  for  the  gathering  of  hosts 
far  and  near,  even  allies  beyond  the  seas.  When  I  looked 
to  London  for  the  peaceful  Witan,  what  saw  I  ?  The 
largest  armament  that  had  been  collected  in  this  reign — 
that  armament  headed  by  Norman  knights.  Was  this 
the  meeting  where  justice  could  be  done  mine  and  me  ? 
Nevertheless,  what  was  my  offer  ?  That  I  and  my  six 
sons  would  attend,  provided  the  usual  sureties,  agreeable 
to  our  laws,  from  which  only  thieves  *  are  excluded,  were 

*  By  Athelstan's  law,  every  man  was  to  have  peace  goina:  to  and 
from  the  Witan,  unless  he  was  a  thief. — Wilkins,  p.  1.S7. 


148  HAROLD. 

given  that  we  should  come  and  go  life-free  and  safe. 
Twice  this  offer  was  made,  twice  refused ;  and  so  I  and 
my  sons  were  banished.    We  went ; — we  have  returned  !" 

"And  in  arms,"  murmured  Earl  Rolf,  son-in-law  to 
that  Count  Eustace  of  Boulogne  whose  violence  had  been 
temperately  and  truly  narrated.* 

"And  in  arms,"  repeated  Godwin :  "  true ;  in  arms 
against  the  foreigners  who  had  thus  poisoned  the  ear  of 
our  gracious  king  ;  in  arms,  Earl  Rolf;  and  at  the  first 
clash  of  those  arms  Franks  and  foreigners  have  fled.  We 
have  no  need  of  arms  now.  We  are  amongst  our  coun- 
trymen, and  no  Frenchman  interposes  between  us  and  the 
ever  gentle,  ever  generous  nature  of  our  born  king. 

"  Peers  and  proceres,  chiefs  of  this  Witan,  perhaps  the 
largest  ever  yet  assembled  in  man's  memory,  it  is  for  you 
to  decide  whether  I  and  mine,  or  the  foreign  fugitives, 
caused  the  dissension  in  these  realms  ;  whether  our  banish- 
ment was  just  or  not ;  whether  in  our  return  we  have 
abused  the  power  we  possessed.  Ministers,  on  those 
swords  by  your  sides  there  is  not  one  drop  of  blood  !  At 
all  events,  in  submitting  to  you  our  fate,  we  submit  to 
our  own  laws  and  our  own  race.  I  am  here  to  clear  my- 
self, on  my  oath,  of  deed  and  thought  of  treason.  There 
are  amongst  my  peers  as  king's  thegns,  those  who  will 
attest  the  same  on  my  behalf,  and  prove  the  facts  I  have 
stated,  if  they  are  not  sufficiently  notorious.  As  for  my 
sons,  no  crime  can  be  alleged  against  them,  unless  it  be 

*  Goda,  Edward's  sister,  married  first  Rolf's  father,  Count  of 
Mantes  ;  secondly. — Count  of  Boulogne. 


HAROLD.  149 

a  crime  to  have  in  their  veins  that  blood  which  flows  in 
mine — blood  which  they  have  learned  from  me  to  shed  in 
defence  of  that  beloved  land  to  which  they  now  ask  to 
be  recalled." 

The  Earl  ceased  and  receded  behind  his  children,  hav- 
ing artfully,  by  his  very  abstinence  from  the  more  heated 
eloquence  imputed  to  him  often  as  a  fault  and  a  wile,  pro- 
duced a  powerful  effect  upon  an  audience  already  pre- 
pared for  his  acquittal. 

But  now  as  from  the  sons,  Sweyn  the  eldest  stepped 
forth,  with  a  wandering  eye  and  uncertain  foot,  there  was 
a  movement  like  a  shudder  amongst  the  large  majority 
of  the  audience,  and  a  murmur  of  hate  or  of  horror. 

The  young  earl  marked  the  sensation  his  presence  pro- 
duced, and  stopped  short.  His  breath  came  thick ;  he 
raised  his  right  hand,  but  spoke  not.  His  voice  died  on 
his  lips  ;  his  eyes  roved  wildly  round  with  a  haggard  stare 
more  imploring  than  defying.  Then  rose,  in  his  episcopal 
stole.  Aired  the  bishop,  and  his  clear  sweet  voice  trem- 
bled as  he  spoke. 

"  Comes  Sweyn,  son  of  Godwin,  here,  to  prove  his  in- 
nocence, of  treason  against  the  king  ? — if  so,  let  him  hold 
his  peace  ;  for  if  the  Witan  acquit  Godwin  son  of  Wol- 
noth  of  that  charge,  the  acquittal  includes  his  House. 
But  in  the  name  of  the  holy  Church  here  represented  by 
its  fathers,  will  Sweyn  say,  and  fasten  his  word  by  oath, 
that  he  is  guiltless  of  treason  to  the  King  of  Kings  — 
guiltless  of  sacrilege  that  my  lips  shrink  to  name?  Alas, 
that  the  duty  falls  on  me,  —  for  I  loved  thee  once,  and 
13* 


150  HAROLD. 

love  thy  kindred  now.  But  I  am  God's  servant  before 
nil  things"  —  the  prelate  paused,  and  gathering  up  new 
energy,  added  in  unfaltering  accents,  "  I  charge  thee 
here,  Sweyn  the  outlaw,  that,  moved  by  the  fiend,  thou 
didst  bear  off  from  God's  house  and  violate  a  daughter 
of  the  Church  —  Algive,  abbess  of  Leominster  ! " 

"And  I,  "  cried  Siward,  rising  to  the  full  height  of  his 
stature,  "I,  in  the  presence  of  these  proceres,  whose 
proudest  title  is  milites  or  warriors  —  I  charge  Sweyn, 
son  of  Godwin,  that,  not  in  open  field  and  hand  to  hand, 
but  by  felony  and  guile,  he  wrought  the  foul  and  abhor- 
rent murder  of  his  cousin,  Beorn  the  earl  I " 

At  these  two  charges  from  men  so  eminent,  the  effect 
upon  the  audience  was  startling.  While  those  not  influ- 
enced by  Godwin  raised  their  eyes,  sparkling  with  wrath 
and  scorn,  upon  the  wasted,  yet  still  noble  face  of  the 
eldest-born  ;  even  those  most  zealous  on  behalf  of  that 
popular  House  evinced  no  sympathy  for  its  heir.  Some 
looked  down  abashed  and  mournful  —  some  regarded  the 
accused  with  a  cold  unpitying  gaze.  Only  perhaps  among 
the  ceorls,  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  might  be  seen  some 
compassion  on  anxious  faces  ;  for  before  those  deeds  of 
crime  had  been  bruited  abroad,  none  among  the  sons  of 
Godwin  more  blithe  of  mien  and  bold  of  hand,  more 
honored  and  beloved,  than  Sweyn  the  outlaw.  But  the 
hush  that  succeeded  the  charges  was  appalling  in  its 
depth.  Godwin  himself  shaded  his  face  with  his  mantle, 
and  only  those  close  by  could  see  that  his  breast  heaved 
and  his  limbs  trembled.     The  brothers  had  shrunk  from 


HAROLD.  151 

the  side  of  the  accused,  outlawed  even  amongst  his  kin- 
all  save  Harold,  who,  strong  in  his  blameless  name  and 
beloved  repute,  advanced  three  strides  amidst  the  silence, 
and,  standing  by  his  brother's  side,  lifted  his  command- 
ing brow  above  the  seated  judges,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

Then  said  Sweyn  the  earl,  strengthened  by  such  soli- 
tary companionship  in  that  hostile  assemblage, — "  I  might 
answer  that  for  these  charges  in  the  past,  for  deeds  alleged 
as  done  eight  long  years  ago,  I  have  the  king's  grace, 
and  the  inlaw's  right ;  and  that  in  the  Witans  over  which 
I  as  earl  presided,  no  man  was  twice  judged  for  the  same 
offence.  That  I  hold  to  be  the  law,  in  the  great  councils 
as  the  small." 

"  It  is  !  it  is  ! "  exclaimed  Godwin  ;  his  paternal  feel- 
ings conquering  his  prudence  and  his  decorous  dignity. 
"  Hold  to  it,  my  son  ! " 

"I  hold  to  it  not,"  resumed  the  young  earl,  casting  a 
haughty  glance  over  the  somewhat  blank  and  disappointed 
faces  of  his  foes,  "for  my  law  is  Aere"  —  and  he  smote 
his  heart  —  "  and  that  condemns  me  not  once  alone,  but 
evermore  !  Aired,  0  holy  father,  at  whose  knees  I  once 
confessed  my  every  sin, — I  blame  thee  not  that  thou  first, 
in  the  Witan,  lifted  thy  voice  against  me,  though  thou 
knowest  that  I  loved  Algive  from  youth  upward  ;  she, 
with  her  heart  yet  mine,  was  given  in  the  last  year  of 
Hardicanute,  when  might  was  right,  to  the  Church.  I 
met  her  again,  flushed  with  my  victories  over  the  Walloon 
kings,  with  power  in  ray  hand  and  passion  in  my  veins. 
Deadly  was  my  sin  ! — But  what  asked  I  ?  that  vows  com- 


lo2  HAROLD. 

pelled  should  be  annulled  ;  that  the  love  of  my  youth 
might  yet  be  the  wife  of  my  manhood.  Pardon,  that  I 
knew  not  then  how  eternal  are  the  bonds  ye  of  the  Church 
have  woven  round  those  of  whom,  if  ye  fail  of  saints,  ye 
may  at  least  make  martyrs  ! " 

He  paused,  and  his  lip  curled,  and  his  eye  shot  wild- 
fire ;  for  in  that  moment  his  mother's  blood  was  high 
within  him,  and  he  looked  and  thought,  perhaps,  as  some 
heathen  Dane,  but  the  flash  of  the  former  man  was  mo- 
mentary, and  humbly  smiting  his  breast,  he  murmured, 
"Avaunt,  Satan  !  —  yea,  deadly  was  my  sin  I  And  the 
sin  was  mine  alone  ;  Algive,  if  stained,  was  blameless ; 
she  escaped  —  and  —  and  died  ! 

"  The  king  was  wroth  ;  and  first  to  strive  against  my 
pardon  was  Harold  my  brother,  who  now  alone  in  my 
penitence  stands  by  my  side  :  he  strove  manfully  and 
openly ;  I  blamed  him  not :  but  Beorn,  my  cousin,  de- 
sired my  earldom,  and  he  strove  against  me,  wilily  and  in 
secret,  —  to  my  face  kind,  behind  my  back  despiteful.  I 
detected  his  falsehood,  and  meant  to  detain,  but  not  to 
slay  him.  He  lay  bound  in  my  ship  ;  he  reviled  and  he 
taunted  me  in  the  hour  of  my  gloom  ;  and  when  the  blood 
of  the  sea-kings  flowed  in  fire  through  my  veins.  And  I 
lifted  my  axe  in  ire  ;  and  my  men  lifted  theirs,  and  so, — 
and  so  !  —  Again  I  say  —  Deadly  was  my  sin  I 

"  Think  not  that  I  seek  now  to  make  less  ray  guilt,  as 
I  sought  when  I  deemed  that  life  was  yet  long,  and  power 
was  yet  sweet.  Since  then  I  have  known  worldly  evil, 
and  worldly  good,  —  the  storm  and  the  shine  of  life  ;  T 


HAROLD,  153 

have  swept  the  seas,  a  sea-king ;  I  have  battled  with  the 
Dane  in  his  native  land  ;  I  have  almost  grasped  in  my 
right  hand,  as  I  grasped  in  my  dreams,  the  crown  of  my 
kinsman,  Canute  ; — again,  I  have  been  a  fugitive  and  an 
exile  ;  —  again,  I  have  been  inlawed,  and  earl  of  all  the 
lands  from  Isis  to  the  Wye.*  And  whether  in  state  or 
in  penury, — whether  in  war  or  in  peace,  I  have  seen  the 
pale  face  of  the  nun  betrayed,  and  the  gory  wounds  of  the 
murdered  man.  Wherefore  I  come  not  here  to  plead  for 
a  pardon,  which  would  console  me  not,  but  formally  to 
dissever  my  kinsmen's  cause  from  mine,  which  alone  sul- 
lies and  degrades  it ; — I  come  here  to  say,  that,  coveting 
not  your  acquittal,  fearing  not  your  judgment,  I  pro- 
nounce mine  own  doom.  Cap  of  noble,  and  axe  of  war- 
rior, I  lay  aside  for  ever ;  barefooted,  and  alone,  I  go 
hence  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre ;  there  to  assoil  ray  soul, 
and  implore  that  grace  which  cannot  come  from  man  ! 
Harold,  step  forth  in  the  place  of  Sweyn  the  first-born  ! 
And  ye  prelates  and  peers,  milites  and  ministers,  proceed 
to  adjudge  the  living  !  To  you,  and  to  England,  he  who 
now  quits  you  is  the  dead  ! " 

He  gathered  his  robe  of  state  over  his  breast  as  a 
monk  his  gown,  and  looking  neither  to  right  nor  to  left, 
passed  slowly  down  the  hall,  through  the  crowd,  which 
made  way  for  him  in  awe  and  silence  ;  and  it  seemed  to 
the  assembly  as  if  a  cloud  had  gone  from  the  face  of 
day. 

*  More  correctly  of  Oxford,  Somerset,  Berkshire,  Gloucester,  and 
Hereford. 


154  HAROLD. 

And  Godwin  still  stood  with  his  face  covered  by  his 
robe. 

And  Harold  anxiously  watched  the  faces  of  the  assem- 
bly, and  saw  no  relenting  I 

And  Gurth  crept  to  Harold's  side. 

And  the  gay  Leofwine  looked  sad. 

And  the  young  Wolnoth  turned  pale  and  trembled. 

And  the  fierce  Tostig  played  with  his  golden  chain. 

And  one  low  sob  was  heard,  and  it  came  from  the 
breast  of  Aired,  the  meek  accuser, — God's  firm  but  gentle 
priest. 


CHAPTER   ly. 

This  memorable  trial  ended,  as  the  reader  will  have 
foreseen,  in  the  formal  renewal  of  Sweyn's  outlawry,  and 
the  formal  restitution  of  the  Earl  Godwin  and  his  other 
sons  to  their  lands  and  honors,  with  declarations  imputing 
all  the  blame  of  the  late  dissensions  to  the  foreign  favor- 
ites, and  sentence  of  banishment  against  them,  except 
only,  by  way  of  a  bitter  mockery,  some  varlets  of  low 
degree,  such  as  Humphrey  Cocks-foot,  and  Richard,  Son 
of  Scrob.* 

*  Yet  how  little  safe  it  is  for  the  great  to  despise  the  low-horii  I 
This  very  Richard,  son  of  Scrob,  more  euphoniously  styled  by  the 
Normans  Richard  Fitz  Scrob,  settled  in  Herefordshire  (he  was 
probably  among  the  retainers  of  Earl  Rolf),  and  on  William's  land- 
ing, became  the  chief  and  most  active  supporter  of  the  invader  in 


HAROLD,  155 

The  return  to  power  of  this  able  and  vigorous  family 
was  attended  with  an  instantaneous  effect  upon  the  long- 
relaxed  strings  of  the  imperial  government.  Macbeth 
heard,  and  trembled  in  his  moors  ;  Gryfifjth  of  Wales  lit 
the  fire-beacon  on  moel  and  craig.  Earl  Rolf  was 
banished,  but  merely  as  a  nominal  concession  to  public 
opinion  :  his  kinship  to  Edward  sufiSced  to  restore  him 
soon,  not  only  to  England,  but  to  the  lordship  of  the 
Marches,  and  thither  was  he  sent,  with  adequate  force, 
against  the  Welch,  who  had  half-repossessed  themselves 
of  the  borders  they  harried.  Saxon  prelates  and  abbots 
replaced  the  I^orman  fugitives ;  and  all  were  contented 
with  the  revolution,  save  the  King ;  for  the  King  lost  his 
Norman  friends,  and  regained  his  English  wife. 

In  conformity  with  the  usages  of  the  time,  hostages  of 
the  loyalty  and  faith  of  Godwin  were  required  and  con- 
ceded. They  were  selected  from  his  own  family ;  and  the 
choice  fell  on  Wolnoth,  his  son,  and  Haco,  the  son  of 
Sweyn.  As,  when  nearly  all  England  may  be  said  to 
have  repassed  to  the  hands  of  Godwin,  it  would  have 
been  an  idle  precaution  to  consign  these  hostages  to  the 
keeping  of  Edward,  it  was  settled,  after  some  discussion, 
that  they  should  be  placed  in  the  court  of  the  Xorman 
duke,  until  such  time  as  the  king,  satisfied  with  the  good 
faith  of  the  family,  should  authorize  their  recall :  —  Fatal 
hostage,  fatal  ward  and  host ! 


those  districts.  The  sentence  of  banishment  seems  to  have  been 
mainly  confined  to  the  foreigners  about  the  court ;  for  it  is  clear 
that  many  Normau  land-owners  and  priests  were  still  left  scattered 
throughout  the  country. 


156  HAROLD. 

It  was  some  days  after  this  national  crisis,  and  order 
and  peace  were  again  established  in  city  and  land,  forest 
and  shire,  when,  at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  Hilda  stood 
alone  by  the  altar-stone  of  Thor. 

The  orb  was  sinking  red  and  lurid,  amidst  long  cloud- 
wracks  of  vermeil  and  purple,  and  not  one  human  form 
was  seen  in  the  landscape,  save  that  tall  and  majestic 
figure  by  the  Runic  shrine  and  the  Druid  cromrael.  She 
was  leaning  both  hands  on  her  wand,  or  seid-staff,  as  it 
was  called  in  the  language  of  Scandinavian  superstition, 
and  bending  slightly  forward  as  in  the  attitude  of  listen- 
ing or  expectation.  Long  before  any  form  appeared  on 
the  road  below,  she  seemed  to  be  aware  of  coming  foot- 
steps, and  probably  her  habits  of  life  had  sharpened  her 
senses  ;  for  she  smiled,  muttered  to  herself,  "  Ere  it  sets  I " 
and  changing  her  posture,  leant  her  arm  on  the  altar,  and 
rested  her  face  upon  her  hand. 

At  length,  two  figures  came  up  the  road ;  they  neared 
the  hill;  they  saw  her,  and  slowly  ascended  the  knoll. 
The  one  was  dressed  in  the  serge  of  a  pilgrim,  and  his 
cowl  thrown  back,  showed  the  face  where  human  beauty 
and  human  power  lay  ravaged  and  ruined  by  human 
passions.  He  upon  whom  the  pilgrim  lightly  leaned  was 
attired  simply,  without  the  brooch  or  bracelet  common 
to  thegns  of  high  degree,  yet  his  port  was  that  of  majesty, 
and  his  brow  that  of  mild  command.  A  greater  contrast 
could  not  be  conceived  than  that  between  these  two  men, 
yet  united  by  a  family  likeness.  For  the  countenance 
of  the  last  described  was.  though  sorrowful  at  that 
moment,  and   indeed   habitually   not   without  a  certain 


HAROLD.  157 

melancholy,  wonderfully  imposing  from  its  calm  and 
sweetness.  There,  no  devouring  passions  had  left  the 
cloud  or  ploughed  the  line ;  but  all  the  smooth  loveliness 
of  youth  took  dignity  from  the  conscious  resolve  of  man. 
The  long  hair,  of  a  fair  brown,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  gold, 
as  the  last  sun-beams  shot  through  its  luxuriance,  was 
parted  from  the  temples,  and  fell  in  large  waves  half-way 
to  the  shoulder.  The  eye-brows,  darker  in  hue,  arched 
and  finely  traced  ;  the  straight  features  not  less  manly 
than  the  Norman,  but  less  strongly  marked  ;  the  cheek, 
hardy  with  exercise  and  exposure,  yet  still  retaining  some- 
what of  youthful  bloom  under  the  pale  bronze  of  its  sun- 
burnt surface  :  the  form  tall,  not  gigantic,  and  vigorous 
rather  from  perfect  proportion  and  athletic  habits  than 
from  breadth  and  bulk — were  all  singularly  characteristic 
of  the  Saxon  beauty  in  its  highest  and  purest  type.  But 
what  chiefly  distinguished  this  personage,  was  that 
peculiar  dignity,  so  simple,  so  sedate,  which  no  pomp 
seems  to  dazzle,  no  danger  to  disturb ;  and  which  per- 
haps arises  from  a  strong  sense  of  self-dependence,  and 
is  connected  with  self-respect — a  dignity  common  to  the 
Indian  and  the  Arab  ;  and  rare,  except  in  that  state  of 
society  in  which  each  man  is  a  power  in  himself.  The 
Latin  tragic  poet  touches  close  upon  that  sentiment  in 
the  fine  lines  — 

"Rex  est  qui  metuit  nihil; 
Hoc  regnum  sibi  quisque  dat."  * 

*  Seneca,  Thyest.  Act  ii.  —  "He  is  a  king  who  fears  nothing: 
that  kingdom  every  man  gives  to  himself." 

I— 14 


158  HAROLD. 

So  stood  the  brothers,  Sweyn  the  outlaw  and  Harold 
the  Earl  before  the  reputed  prophetess.  She  looked  on 
both  with  a  steady  eye,  which  gradually  softened  almost 
into  tenderness,  as  it  finally  rested  upon  the  pilgrim. 

"And  is  it  thus,"  she  said  at  last,  "that  I  see  the  first- 
born of  Godwin  the  fortunate,  for  whom  so  often  I  have 
tasked  the  thunder,  and  watched  the  setting  sun  ?  for 
whom  my  runes  have  been  graven  on  the  bark  of  the  elm, 
and  the  Scin-l^ca  *  been  called  in  pale  splendor  from  the 
graves  of  the  dead  ?  " 

"Hilda,"  said  Sweyn,  "  not  now  will  I  accuse  thee  of 
the  seeds  thou  hast  sown  :  the  harvest  is  gathered  and 
the  sickle  is  broken.  Abjure  thy  dark  Galdra,-|-  and  turn 
as  I  to  the  sole  light  in  the  future,  which  shines  from  the 
tomb  of  the  Son  Divine." 

The  Prophetess  bowed  her  head  and  replied  :  — 

"  Belief  cometh  as  the  wind.  Can  the  tree  say  to  the 
wind,  'Rest  thou  on  my  boughs?'  or  Man  to  Belief, 
'  Fold  thy  wings  on  my  heart  I '  Go  where  thy  soul  can 
find  comfort,  for  thy  life  hath  passed  from  its  uses  on 
earth.  And  when  I  would  read  thy  fate,  the  runes  are 
blanks,  and  the  wave  sleeps  unstirred  on  the  fountain. 
Go  where  the  Fylgia,J  whom  Alfader  gives  to  each  at 
his  birth,  leads  thee.  Thou  didst  desire  love  that  seemed 
shut  from  thee,  and  I  predicted  that  thy  love  should 

*  Scin-lseca,  literally  a  shining  corpse;  a  species  of  apparition 
invoked  by  the  witch  or  wizard. — See  Sharon  Turner  on  the  Super- 
stitions of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  b.  ii.  c.  14. 

f  Galdra,  magic.  %  Fylgia,  tutelary  divinity. 


HAROLD.  159 

awake  from  the  charnel  in  which  the  creed  that  succeeds 
to  the  faith  of  our  sires  inters  life  in  its  bloom.  And 
thou  didst  covet  the  fame  of  the  Jarl  and  the  Yiking, 
and  I  blessed  thine  axe  to  thy  hand,  and  wove  the  sail 
for  thy  masts.  So  long  as  man  knows  desire,  can  Hilda 
have  power  over  his  doom.  But  when  the  heart  lies  in 
ashes,  I  raise  but  a  corpse  that,  at  the  hush  of  the  charm, 
falls  again  into  its  grave.  Yet,  come  to  me  nearer,  O 
Sweyn,  whose  cradle  I  rocked  to  the  chant  of  my  rhyme." 

The  outlaw  turned  aside  his  face,  and  obeyed. 

She  sighed  as  she  took  his  passive  hand  in  her  own, 
and  examined  the  lines  on  the  palm.  Then,  as  if  by  an 
involuntary  impulse  of  fondness  and  pity,  she  put  aside 
his  cowl  and  kissed  his  brow. 

"  Thy  skein  is  spun,  and  happier  than  the  many  who 
scorn,  and  the  few  who  lament  thee,  thou  shalt  win  where 
they  lose.  The  steel  shall  not  smite  thee,  the  storm  shall 
forbear  thee,  the  goal  that  thou  yearnest  for  thy  steps 
shall  attain.  Night  hallows  the  ruin, — and  peace  to  the 
shattered  wrecks  of  the  brave  ! " 

The  outlaw  heard  as  if  unmoved.  But  when  he  turned 
to  Harold,  who  covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  but  could 
not  restrain  the  tears  that  flowed  through  the  clasped 
fingers,  a  moisture  came  into  his  own  wild,  bright  eyes, 
and  he  said,  "  Xow,  my  brother,  farewell,  for  no  farther 
step  shalt  thou  wend  with  me." 

Harold  started,  opened  his  arms,  and  the  outlaw  fell 
upon  his  breast. 

No  sound  was  heard  save  a  single  sob  ;  and  so  close 


160  HAROLD. 

was  breast  to  breast,  you  could  not  say  from  whose  heart 
it  came.  Then  the  outlaw  wrenched  himself  from  the 
embrace,  and  murmured,  "And  Haco — my  son — mother- 
less, fatherless  —  hostage  in  the  land  of  the  stranger  I 
Thou  wilt  remember  —  thou  wilt  shield  him  ;  thou  be  to 
him  mother,  father  in  the  days  to  come  I  So  may  the 
saints  bless  thee  !  "  With  these  words  he  sprang  down 
the  hillock. 

Harold  bounded  after  him ;  but  Sweyn,  halting,  said, 
mournfully,  "  Is  this  thy  promise  ?  Am  I  so  lost  that 
faith  should  be  broken  even  with  thy  father's  son?" 

At  that  touching  rebuke,  Harold  paused,  and  the  out- 
law passed  his  way  alone.  As  the  last  glimpse  of  his 
figure  vanished  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  whence,  on  the 
second  of  May,  the  Norman  Duke  and  the  Saxon  King 
had  emerged  side  by  side,  the  short  twilight,  closed 
abruptly,  and  up  from  the  far  forest-land  rose  the  moon. 

Harold  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  still  gazing  on 
the  space,  when  the  Yala  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Behold,  as  the  moon  rises  on  the  troubled  gloaming, 
so  rises  the  fate  of  Harold,  as  yon  brief,  human  shadow, 
halting  between  light  and  darkness,  passes  away  to  night. 
Thou  art  now  the  first-born  of  a  House  that  unites  the 
hopes  of  the  Saxon  with  the  fortunes  of  the  Dane." 

"  Thinkest  thou,"  said  Harold,  with  a  stern  composure, 
"  tha-t  I  can  have  joy  and  triumph  in  a  brother's  exile 
and  woe  ?" 

"Not  now,  and  not  yet,  will  the  voice  of  thy  true 
nature  be  heard  ;  but  the  warmth  of  the  sun  brings  the 


HAROLD.  161 

thunder,  and  the  glory  of  fortune  wakes  the  storm  of  the 
soul." 

"  Kinswoman,"  said  Harold,  with  a  slight  curl  of  his 
lip,  "  by  me  at  least  have  thy  prophecies  ever  passed  as 
the  sough  of  the  air ;  neither  in  horror  nor  with  faith  do 
I  think  of  thy  incantations  and  charms  ;  and  I  smile 
alike  at  the  exorcism  of  the  shaveling  and  the  spells  of 
the  Saga.  I  have  asked  thee  not  to  bless  mine  axe,  nor 
weave  my  sail.  No  runic  rhyme  is  on  the  sword-blade 
of  Harold.  I  leave  my  fortunes  to  the  chance  of  mine 
own  cool  brain  and  strong  arm.  Yala,  between  thee  and 
me  there  is  no  bond," 

The  Prophetess  smiled  loftily. 

"And  what  thinkest  thou,  0  self-dependent!  what 
thinkest  thou  is  the  fate  which  thy  brain,  and  thine  arm 
shall  win  ?  " 

"  The  fate  they  have  won  already.  I  see  no  Beyond. 
The  fate  of  a  man  sworn  to  guard  his  country,  love  jus- 
tice, and  do  right." 

The  moon  shone  full  on  the  heroic  face  of  the  young 
Earl  as  he  spoke  ;  and  on  its  surface  there  seemed  nought 
to  belie  the  noble  words.  Yet,  the  Prophetess,  gazing 
earnestly  on  that  fair  countenance,  said,  in  a  whisper, 
that,  despite  a  reason  singularly  sceptical  for  the  age  in 
which  it  had  been  cultured,  thrilled  to  the  Saxon's  heart, 
"  Under  that  calm  eye  sleeps  the  soul  of  thy  sire ;  and 
beneath  that  brow,  so  haught  and  so  pure,  works  the 
genius  that  crowned  the  kings  of  the  north  in  the  lineage 
of  thy  mother  the  Dane." 

U*  L 


IG2  HAROLD. 

"Peace!"  said  Harold,  almost  fiercely;  then,  as  if 
ashamed  of  the  weakness  of  his  momentary  irritation,  he 
added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  Let  us  not  talk  of  these  mat- 
ters while  my  heart  is  still  sad  and  away  from  the  thoughts 
of  the  world,  with  my  brother  the  lonely  outlaw.  Night 
is  on  us,  and  the  ways  are  yet  unsafe ;  for  the  king's 
troops,  disbanded  in  haste,  were  made  up  of  many  who 
turn  to  robbers  in  peace.  Alone,  and  unarmed,  save  my 
ateghar,  I  would  crave  a  night's  rest  under  thy  roof; 
and,"  —  he  hesitated,  and  a  slight  blush  came  over  his 
cheek  —  "and  I  would  fain  see  if  your  grandchild  is  as 
fair  as  when  I  last  looked  on  her  blue  eyes,  that  then 
wept  for  Harold  ere  he  went  into  exile." 

"  Her  tears  are  not  at  her  command,  nor  her  smiles," 
said  the  Yala,  solemnly ;  "  her  tears  flow  from  the  fount 
of  thy  sorrows,  and  her  smiles  are  the  beams  from  thy 
joys.  For  know,  0  Harold  I  that  Edith  is  thine  earthly 
Fylgia ;  thy  fate  and  her  fate  are  as  one.  And,  vainly 
as  man  would  escape  from  his  shadow,  would  soul  wrench 
itself  from  the  soul  that  Skulda  hath  linked  to  his  doom." 

Harold  made  no  reply ;  but  his  step,  habitually  slow, 
grew  more  quick  and  light,  and  this  time  his  reason  found 
no  fault  with  the  oracles  of  the  Yala. 


HAROLD.  163 


CHAPTER  V. 

As  Hilda  entered  the  hall,  the  various  idlers  accustomed 
to  feed  at  her  cost  were  about  retiring,  some  to  their  homes 
in  the  vicinity,  some,  appertaining  to  the  household,  to 
the  dormitories  in  the  old  Roman  villa. 

It  was  not  the  habit  of  the  Saxon  noble,  as  it  was  of 
the  Norman,  to  put  hospitality  to  profit,  by  regarding 
his  guests  in  the  light  of  armed  retainers.  Liberal  as  the 
Briton,  the  cheer  of  the  board  and  the  shelter  of  the  roof 
were  afforded  with  a  hand  equally  unselfish  and  indiscri- 
minate ;  and  the  doors  of  the  more  wealthy  and  munifi- 
cent might  be  almost  literally  said  to  stand  open  from 
morn  to  eve. 

As  Harold  followed  the  Yala  across  the  vast  atrium, 
his  face  was  recognized,  and  a  shout  of  enthusiastic  wel- 
come greeted  the  popular  earl.  The  only  voices  that  did 
not  swell  that  cry,  were  those  of  three  monks  from  a 
neighboring  convent,  who  chose  to  wink  at  the  supposed 
practices  of  the  Morthwyrtha,*  from  the  affection  they 
bore  to  her  ale  and  mead,  and  the  gratitude  they  felt  for 
her  ample  gifts  to  their  convent. 

"  One  of  the  wicked  House,  brother,"  whispered  the 
monk. 

*  Morthwyrtha,  worshipper  of  the  dead. 


164  HAROLD. 

"  Yea  ;  mockers  and  scorners  are  Godwin  and  his  lewd 
sons,"  answered  the  monk. 

And  all  three  sighed  and  scowled,  as  the  door  closed 
on  the  hostess  and  her  stately  guest. 

Two  tall  and  not  ungraceful  lamps  lighted  the  same 
chamber  in  which  Hilda  was  first  presented  to  the  reader. 
The  handmaids  were  still  at  their  spindles,  and  the  white 
web  nimbly  shot  as  the  mistress  entered.  She  paused, 
and  her  brow  knit,  as  she  eyed  the  work. 

"But  three  parts  done?"  she  said;  "weave  fast,  and 
weave  strong." 

Harold,  not  heeding  the  maids  or  their  task,  gazed 
inquiringly  round,  and  from  a  nook  near  the  window, 
Edith  sprang  forward  with  a  joyous  cry,  and  a  face  all 
glowing  with  delight — sprang  forward,  as  if  to  the  arms 
of  a  brother  ;  but,  within  a  step  or  so  of  that  noble  guest, 
she  stopped  short,  and  her  eyes  fell  to  the  ground. 

Harold  held  his  breath  in  admiring  silence.  The  child 
he  had  loved  from  her  cradle  stood  before  him  as  a  woman. 
Even  since  we  last  saw  her,  in  the  interval  between  the 
spring  and  the  autumn,  the  year  had  ripened  the  youth 
of  the  maiden,  as  it  had  mellowed  the  fruits  of  the  earth ; 
and  her  cheek  was  rosy  with  the  celestial  blush,  and  her 
form  rounded  to  the  nameless  grace,  which  say  that  in- 
fancy is  no  more. 

He  advanced  and  took  her  hand,  but  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  in  their  greetings,  he  neither  gave  nor  received 
the  kiss. 

"  You  are  no  child  now,  Edith,"  said  he,  involuntarily  ; 


-  HAROLD.  165 

"but  still  set  apart,  I  pray  you,  some  remains  of  the  old 
childish  love  for  Harold." 

Edith's  charming  lips  smiled  softly ;  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his,  and  their  innocent  fondness  spoke  through  happy 
tears. 

But  few  words  passed  in  the  short  interval  between 
Harold's  entrance  and  his  retirement  to  the  chamber 
prepared  for  him  in  haste.  Hilda  herself  led  him  to  a 
rude  ladder  which  admitted  to  a  room  above,  evidently 
added,  by  some  Saxon  lord,  to  the  old  Roman  pile.  The 
ladder  showed  the  precaution  of  one  accustomed  to  sleep 
in  the  midst  of  peril ;  for  by  a  kind  of  windlass  in  the 
room,  it  could  be  drawn  up  at  the  inmate's  will,  and,  so 
drawn,  left  below  a  dark  and  deep  chasm,  delving  down 
to  the  foundations  of  the  house ;  nevertheless  the  room 
itself  had  all  the  luxury  of  the  time  ;  the  bedstead  was 
quaintly  carved,  and  of  some  rare  wood ;  a  trophy  of 
arms  —  though  very  ancient,  sedulously  polished  —  hung 
on  the  wall.  There  were  the  small  round  shield  and  spear 
of  the  earlier  Saxon,  with  his  vizorless  helm,  and  the 
short  curved  knife  or  saex,*  from  which  some  antiqua- 
rians deem  that  the  Saxish  men  take  their  renowned 
name. 

Edith,  following  Hilda,  proffered  to  the  guest,  on  a 

*  It  is  a  disputed  question  whether  the  ssex  of  the  earliest  Saxon 
invaders  was  a  long  or  short  curved  weapon, — nay,  whether  it  was 
curved  or  straight;  but  the  author  sides  with  those  who  contend 
that  it  was  a  short,  crooked  weapon,  easily  concealed  by  a  cloak, 
and  similar  to  those  depicted  on  the  banner  of  the  East  Saxons. 


1G6  HAROLD. 

salver  of  gold,  spiced  wines  and  confections  ;  while  Hilda, 
silently  and  unperceived,  waved  her  seid-staff  over  the 
bed,  and  rested  her  pale  hand  on  the  pillow. 

"Nay,  sweet  cousin,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  "this  is 
not  one  of  the  fashions  of  old,  but  rather,  methinks, 
borrowed  from  the  Frankish  manners  in  the  court  of 
King  Edward." 

"Not  so,  Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  quickly  turning ; 
"  such  was  ever  the  ceremony  due  to  Saxon  king,  when 
he  slept  in  a  subject's  house,  ere  our  kinsmen  the  Danes 
introduced  that  unroyal  wassail,  which  left  subject  and 
king  unable  to  hold  or  to  quaff  cup,  when  the  board  was 
left  for  the  bed." 

'•  Thou  rebukest,  0  Hilda,  too  tauntingly,  the  pride 
of  Godwin's  House,  when  thou  givest  to  his  homely  son 
the  ceremonial  of  a  king.  But,  so  served,  I  envy  not 
kings,  fair  Edith." 

He  took  the  cup,  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  when  he 
placed  it  on  the  small  table  by  his  side,  the  woman  had 
left  the  chamber,  and  he  was  alone.  He  stood  for  some 
minutes  absorbed  in  reverie,  and  his  soliloquy  ran  some- 
what thus : — 

"Why  said  the  Yala  that  Edith's  fate  was  inwoven 
with  mine  ?  And  why  did  I  believe  and  bless  the  Yala, 
when  she  so  said  ?  Can  Edith  ever  be  my  wife  ?  The 
monk-king  designs  her  for  the  cloister. — Woe  and  well-a- 
day !  —  Sweyn,  Sweyn,  let  thy  doom  forewarn  me  I  And 
if  I  stand  up  in  my  place  and  say,  '  Give  age  and  grief 
to  the  cloister  —  youth   and  delight  to  man's   hearth,' 


HAROLD.  167 

what  will  answer  the  monks  ?  '  Edith  cannot  be  thy 
wife,  son  of  Godwin,  for  faint  and  scarce  traced  though 
your  affinity  of  blood,  ye  are  within  the  banned  degrees 
of  the  Church.  Edith  may  be  wife  to  another,  if  thou 
wilt — barren  spouse  of  the  Church,  or  mother  of  children 
who  lisp  not  Harold's  name  as  their  father.'  Out  on 
these  priests  with  their  mummeries,  and  out  on  their  war 
upon  human  hearts." 

His  fair  brow  grew  stern  and  fierce  as  the  Norman 
Duke's  in  his  ire  ;  and  had  you  seen  him  at  that  moment 
you  would  have  seen  the  true  brother  of  Sweyn.  He 
broke  from  his  thoughts  with  the  strong  effect  of  a  man 
habituated  to  self-control,  and  advancing  to  the  narrow 
window,  opened  the  lattice,  and  looked  out. 

The  moon  was  in  all  her  splendor.  The  long  deep 
shadows  of  the  breathless  forest  chequered  the  silvery 
whiteness  of  open  sward  and  intervening  glade.  Ghostly 
arose  on  the  knoll  before  him  the  grey  columns  of  the 
mystic  Druid  —  dark  and  indistinct  the  bloody  altar  of 
the  Warrior  god.  But  there  his  eye  was  arrested  ;  for 
whatever  is  least  distinct  and  defined  in  a  landscape  has 
the  charm  that  is  the  strongest ;  and,  while  he  gazed,  he 
thought  that  a  pale  phosphoric  light  broke  from  the 
mound  with  the  bautastein,  that  rose  by  the  Teuton  altar. 
He  thought,  for  he  was  not  sure  that  it  was  not  some 
cheat  of  the  fancy.  Gazing  still,  in  the  centre  of  that 
light,  there  appeared  to  gleam  forth  for  one  moment,  a 
form  of  superhuman  height.  It  was  the  form  of  a  man, 
that  seemed  clad  in  arms  like  those  on  the  wall,  leaning 


168  HAROLD. 

on  a  spear,  whose  point  was  lost  behind  the  shafts  of  the 
crommell.  And  the  face  grew  in  that  moment  distinct 
from  the  light  which  shimmered  around  it,  a  face  large 
as  some  early  god's,  but  stamped  with  unutterable  and 
solemn  woe.  He  drew  back  a  step,  passed  his  hand  over 
his  eyes,  and  looked  again.  Light  and  figure  alike  had 
vanished  ;  nought  was  seen  save  the  grey  columns  and 
the  dim  fane.  The  Earl's  lip  curved  in  derision  of  his 
weakness.  He  closed  the  lattice,  undressed,  knelt  for  a 
moment  or  so  by  the  bed-side,  and  his  prayer  was  brief 
and  simple,  nor  accompanied  with  the  crossings  and  signs 
customary  in  his  age.  He  rose,  extinguished  the  lamp, 
and  threw  himself  on  the  bed. 

The  moon,  thus  relieved  of  the  lamp-light,  came  clear 
and  bright  through  the  room,  shone  on  the  trophied 
arms,  and  fell  upon  Harold's  face,  casting  its  brightness 
on  the  pillow  on  which  the  Yala  had  breathed  her  charm. 
And  Harold  slept — slept  long — his  face  calm,  his  breath- 
ing regular :  but  ere  the  moon  sunk  and  the  dawn  rose, 
the  features  were  dark  and  troubled,  the  breath  came  by 
gasps,  the  brow  was  knit,  and  the  teeth  clenched. 


BOOK  FOURTH. 

THE  HEATHEN  ALTAR  AND  THE  SAXON  CHURCH. 


CHAPTER   I. 

'  While  Harold  sleeps,  let  us  here  pause  to  survey  for 
the  first  time  the  greatness  of  that  House  to  which 
Sweyn's  exile  had  left  him  the  heir.  The  fortunes  of 
Godwin  had  been  those  which  no  man  not  eminently 
versed  in  the  science  of  his  kind  can  achieve.  Though 
the  fable  which  some  modern  historians  of  great  name 
have  repeated  and  detailed,  as  to  his  early  condition  as 
the  son  of  a  cow-herd,  is  utterly  groundless,  and  he  be- 
longed to  a  house  all-powerful  at  the  time  of  his  youth, 
he  was  unquestionably  the  builder  of  his  own  greatness. 
That  he  should  rise  so  high  in  the  early  part  of  his  career 
was  less  remarkable  than  that  he  should  have  so  long 
continued  the  possessor  of  a  power  and  state  in  reality 
more  than  regal. 

But,  as  has  been  before  implied,  Godwin's  civil  capa- 
cities were  more  prominent  than  his  warlike.  And  this 
it  is  which  invests  him  with  that  peculiar  interest  which 

I. -15  (169) 


no  HAROLD. 

attracts  us  to  those  who  knit  our  modern  intelligence 
with  the  past.  In  that  dim  world  before  the  Norman 
deluge,  we  are  startled  to  recognize  the  gifts,  that  ordi- 
narily distinguish  a  man  of  peace  in  a  civilized  age. 

His  father,  Wolnoth,  had  been  "Childe"*  of  the 
South  Saxons,  or  thegn  of  Sussex,  a  nephew  of  Edric 
Streone,  Earl  of  Mercia,  the  unprincipled  but  able 
minister  of  Ethelred,  who  betrayed  his  master  to  Canute, 
by  whom,  according  to  most  authorities,  he  was  right- 
eously, though  not  very  legally,  slain  as  a  reward  for  the 
treason. 

"I  promised,"  said  the  Dane  king,  "to  set  thy  head 
higher  than  other  men's,  and  I  keep  my  word."  The 
trunkless  head  was  set  on  the  gates  of  London. 

Wolnoth  had  quarrelled  with  his  uncle  Brightric, 
Edric's  brother,  and  before  the  arrival  of  Canute,  had 
betaken  himself  to  the  piracy  of  a  sea-chief,  seduced 
twenty  of  the  king's  ships,  plundered  the  southern  coasts, 
burnt  the  royal  navy,  and  then  his  history  disappears 
from  the  chronicles ;  but  immediately  afterwards  the 
great  Danish  army,  called  Thurkell's  Host,  invaded  the 

*  Saxo7i  Chronicle,  Florence  Wigorn.  Sir  F.  Palgrave  says  that 
the  title  of  Childe  is  equivalent  to  that  of  Atheling.  With  that 
remarkable  appreciation  of  evidence  which  generally  makes  him 
so  invaluable  as  a  judicial  authority  where  accounts  are  contra- 
dictory, Sir  F.  Palgrave  discards  with  silent  contempt  the  absurd 
romance  of  Godwin's  station  of  herdsman,  to  which,  upon  such 
very  fallacious  and  flimsy  authorities,  Thierry  and  Sharon  Turner 
have  been  betrayed  into  lending  their  distinguished  names. 


HAROLD.  171 

coast,  and  kept  their  chief  station  on  the  Thames.  Their 
victorious  arms  soon  placed  the  country  almost  at  their 
command.  The  traitor  Edric  joined  them  with  a  power 
of  more  than  10,000  men  ;  and  it  is  probable  enough 
that  the  ships  of  Wolnoth  had  before  this  time  melted 
amicably  into  the  armament  of  the  Danes.  If  this,  which 
seems  the  most  likely  conjecture,  be  received,  Godwin, 
then  a  mere  youth,  would  naturally  have  commenced  his 
career  in  the  cause  of  Canute ;  and  as  the  son  of  a 
formidable  chief  of  thegn's  rank,  and  even  as  kinsman 
to  Edric,  who,  whatever  his  crimes,  must  have  retained  a 
party  it  was  wise  to  conciliate,  Godwin's  favor  with 
Canute,  whose 'policy  would  lead  him  to  show  marked 
distinction  to  any  able  Saxon  follower,  ceases  to  be  sur- 
prising. 

The  son  of  Wolnoth  accompanied  Canute  in  his  mili- 
tary expedition  to  the  Scandinavian  continent,  and  here 
a  signal  victory,  planned  by  Godwin,  and  executed  solely 
by  himself  and  the  Saxon  band  under  his  command,  with- 
out aid  from  Canute's  Danes,  made  the  most  memorable 
military  exploit  of  his  life,  and  confirmed  his  rising  for- 
tunes. 

Edric,  though  he  is  said  to  have  been  low-born,  had 
married  the  sister  of  King  Ethelred ;  and  as  Godwin 
advanced  in  fame,  Canute  did  not  disdain  to  bestow  his 
own  sister  in  marriage  on  the  eloquent  favorite,  who  pro- 
bably kept  no  small  portion  of  the  Saxon  population  to 
their  allegiance.    On  the  death  of  this,  his  first  wife,  who 


172  HAROLD. 

bore  him  but  one  son  *  (who  died  by  accident),  he  found 
a  second  spouse  in  the  same  royal  house  ;  and  the  mother 
of  his  six  living  sons  and  two  daughters  was  the  niece 
of  his  king,  and  sister  of  Sweyn,  who  subsequently  filled 
the  throne  of  Denmark.     After  the  death  of  Canute,  the 
Saxon's  predilections  in  favor  of  the  Saxon  line  became 
apparent ;   but  it  was  either  his  policy  or  his  principle 
always  to  defer  to  the  popular  will  as  expressed  in  the 
national  council;   and  on  the  preference  given  by  the 
Witan  to  Harold  the  son  of  Canute  over  the  heirs  of 
Ethelred,  he  yielded  his  own  inclinations.     The  great 
power  of  the  Danes,  and  the  amicable  fusion  of  their  race 
with  the  Saxon  which  had  now  taken  place,  are  apparent 
in  this  decision  ;  for  not  only  did  Earl  Leofric,  of  Mercia, 
though  himself  a  Saxon  (as  well  as  the  Earl  of  Northum- 
bria,  with  the  thegns  north  of  the  Thames),  declare  for 
Harold  the  Dane,  but  the  citizens  of  London  were  of  the 
same  party  ;  and  Godwin  represented  little  more  than  the 
feeling  of  his  own  principality  of  Wessex. 

From  that  time,  Godwin,  however,  became  identified 
with  the  English  cause  ;  and  even  many  who  believed 
him  guilty  of  some  share  in  the  murder,  or  at  least  the 
betrayal  of  Alfred,  Edward's  brother,  sought  excuses  in 
the  disgust  with  which  Godwin  had  regarded  the  foreign 
retinue  that  Alfred  had  brought  with  him,  as  if  to  owe 

*  This  first  wife,  Thyra,  was  of  very  unpopular  repute  with  the 
Saxons.  She  was  accused  of  sending  young  English  persons  as 
slaves  into  Denmark,  and  is  said  to  have  been  killed  by  lightning. 


HAROLD.  173 

his  throne*  to  Norman  swords,  rather  than  to  English 
hearts. 

Hardicanute,  who  succeeded  Harold,  whose  memory 
he  abhorred,  whose  corpse  he  disinterred  and  flung  into 
a  fen,f  had  been  chosen  by  the  unanimous  council  both 
of  English  and  Danish  thegns ;  and  despite  Hardi- 
canute's  first  vehement  accusations  of  Godwin,  the  Earl 
still  remained  throughout  that  reign  as  powerful  as  in  the 
two  preceding  it.  When  Hardicanute  dropped  down  dead 
at  a  marriage  banquet,  it  was  Godwin  who  placed  Edward 
upon  the  throne  ;  and  that  great  Earl  must  either  have 
been  conscious  of  his  innocence  of  the  murder  of  Ed- 
ward's brother,  or  assured  of  his  own  irresponsible  power, 
when  he  said  to  the  prince  who  knelt  at  his  feet,  and, 
fearful  of  the  difficulties  in  his  way,  implored  the  Earl 
to  aid  his  abdication  of  the  throne  and  return  to  Nor- 
mandy — 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Ethelred,  grandson  of  Edgar. 
Reign,  it  is  your  duty ;  better  to  live  in  glory  than  die 
in  exile.  You  are  of  mature  years,  and  having  known 
sorrow  and  need,  can  better  feel  for  your  people.  Rely 
on  me,  and  there  will  be  none  of  the  difficulties  you  dread  ; 
whom  I  favor,  England  favors." 

*  It  is  just  however  to  Godwin  to  say,  that  there  is  no  proof  of 
his  share  in  this  barbarous  transaction ;  the  presumptions,  on  the 
contrary,  are  in  his  favor ;  but  the  authorities  are  too  contradictory, 
and  the  whole  event  too  obscure,  to  enable  us  unhesitatingly  to 
confirm  the  acquittal  he  received  in  his  own  age,  and  from  his  own 
national  tribunal. 

•}•  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 
15* 


174  HAROLD. 

And  shortly  afterwards,  in  the  national  assembly,  God- 
win won  Edward  his  throne.  "Powerful  in  speech, 
powerful  in  bringing  over  people  to  what  he  desired, 
some  yielded  to  his  words,  some  to  bribes."*  Yerily, 
Godwin  was  a  man  to  have  risen  as  high  had  he  lived 
later  I 

So  Edward  reigned,  and  agreeably,  it  is  said,  with 
previous  stipulations,  married  the  daughter  of  his  king- 
maker. Beautiful  as  Edith  the  Queen  was  in  mind  and 
in  person,  Edward  apparently  loved  her  not.  She  dwelt 
in  his  palace,  his  wife  only  in  name. 

Tostig  (as  we  have  seen)  had  married  the  daughter  of 
Baldwin,  Count  of  Flanders,  sister  to  Matilda,  wife  to 
the  Norman  Duke  ;  and  thus  the  House  of  Godwin  was 
triply  allied  to  princely  lineage — the  Danish,  the  Saxon, 
the  Flemish.  And  Tostig  might  have  said,  as  in  his 
heart  William  the  Norman  said,  "  My  children  shall  de- 
scend from  Charlemagne  and  Alfred." 

Godwin's  life,  though  thus  outwardly  brilliant,  was  too 
incessantly  passed  in  public  affairs  and  politic  schemes 
to  allow  the  worldly  man  much  leisure  to  watch  over  the 
nurture  and  rearing  of  the  bold  spirits  of  his  sons.  Githa 
his  wife,  the  Dane,  a  woman  wdth  a  haughty  but  noble 
spirit,  imperfect  education,  and  some  of  the  wild  and 
lawless  blood  derived  from  her  race  of  heathen  sea-kings, 
was  more  fitted  to  stir  their  ambition,  and  inflame  their 
fancies,  than  curb  their  tempers  and  mould  their  hearts. 

*  Willinm  of  Malmesburv. 


HAROLD.  Ho 

We  have  seen  the  career  of  Sweyn  ;  but  Sweyn  was  aa 
angel  of  light  compared  to  his  brother  Tostig.  He  who 
can  be  penitent  has  ever  something  lofty  in  his  original 
nature  ;  but  Tostig  was  remorseless  as  the  tiger,  as  trea- 
cherous and  as  fierce.  With  less  intellectual  capacities 
than  any  of  his  brothers,  he  had  more  personal  ambition 
than  all  put  together.  A  kind  of  effeminate  vanity,  not 
uncommon  with  daring  natures  (for  the  bravest  races 
and  the  bravest  soldiers  are  usually  the  vainest ;  the  de- 
sire to  shine  is  as  visible  in  the  fop  as  in  the  hero),  made 
him  restless  both  for  command  and  notoriety.  "May  I 
ever  be  in  the  mouths  of  men,"  was  his  favorite  prayer. 
Like  his  maternal  ancestry,  the  Danes,  he  curled  his  long 
hair,  and  went  as  a  bridegroom  to  the  feast  of  the  ravens. 

Two  only  of  that  house  had  studied  the  Humane  Let- 
ters, which  were  no  longer  disregarded  by  the  princes  of 
the  Continent ;  they  were  the  sweet  sister,  the  eldest  of 
the  family,  fading  fast  in  her  loveless  home,  and  Harold. 

But  Harold's  mind,  —  in  which  what  we  call  common 
sense  was  carried  to  genius, — a  mind  singularly  practical 
and  sagacious,  like  his  father's,  cared  little  for  theological 
learning  and  priestly  legend  —  for  all  that  poesy  of  re- 
ligion in  which  the  Woman  was  wafted  from  the  sorrows 
of  earth. 

Godwin  himself  was  no  favorite  of  the  Church,  and 
had  seen  too  much  of  the  abuses  of  the  Saxon  priesthood 
(perhaps,  with  few  exceptions,  the  most  corrupt  and 
illiterate  in  all  Europe,  which  is  saying  much),  to  instil 
into  his  children  that  reverence  for  the  spiritual  authority 


i  7  6  HAROLD. 

which  existed  abroad  ;  and  the  enlightenment,  which  in 
liim  was  experience  in  life,  was  in  Harold,  betimes,  the 
result  of  study  and  reflection.  The  few  books  of  the 
classical  world  then  within  reach  of  the  student  opened 
to  the  young  Saxon  views  of  human  duties  and  human 
responsibilities  utterly  distinct  from  the  unmeaning  cere- 
monials and  fleshly  mortifications  in  which  even  the  higher 
theology  of  that  day  placed  the  elements  of  virtue.  He 
smiled  in  scorn  when  some  Dane,  whose  life  had  been 
passed  in  the  alternate  drunkenness  of  wine  and  of  blood, 
thought  he  had  opened  the  gates  of  heaven  by  bequeath- 
ing lands  gained  by  a  robber's  sword,  to  pamper  the  lazy 
sloth  of  some  fifty  monks.  If  those  monks  had  presumed 
to  question  his  own  actions,  his  disdain  would  have  been 
mixed  with  simple  wonder  that  men  so  besotted  in  igno- 
rance, and  who  could  not  construe  the  Latin  of  the  very 
prayers  they  pattered,  should  presume  to  be  the  judges 
of  educated  men.  It  is  possible  —  for  his  nature  was 
earnest — that  a  pure  and  enlightened  clergy,  that  even  a 
clergy,  though  defective  in  life,  zealous  in  duty,  and  culti- 
vated in  mind, — such  a  clergy  as  Alfred  sought  to  found, 
and  as  Lanfranc  endeavored  (not  without  some  success) 
to  teach  —  would  have  bowed  his  strong  sense  to  that 
grand  and  subtle  truth  which  dwells  in  spiritual  authority. 
But  as  it  was,  he  stood  aloof  from  the  rude  superstition 
of  his  age,  and  early  in  life  made  himself  the  arbiter  of 
his  own  conscience.  Reducing  his  religion  to  the  sim- 
])lest  elements  of  our  creed,  he  found  rather  in  the  books 


HAROLD.  177 

of  Heathen  authors  than  in  the  lives  of  the  saints,  his 
notions  of  the  larger  morality  which  relates  to  the  citizen 
and  the  man.  The  love  of  country  ;  the  sense  of  justice  ; 
fortitude  in  adverse,  and  temperance  in  prosperous  for- 
tune, became  portions  of  his  very  mind.  Unlike  his 
father,  he  played  no  actor's  part  in  those  qualities  which 
had  won  him  the  popular  heart.  He  was  gentle  and 
affable ;  above  all,  he  was  fair-dealing  and  just,  not  be- 
cause it  was  politic  to  seem,  but  his  nature  to  be,  so. 

Nevertheless,  Harold's  character,  beautiful  and  sublime 
in  many  respects  as  it  was,  had  its  strong  leaven  of  human 
imperfection  in  that  very  self-dependence  which  was  borq 
of  his  reason  and  his  pride.  In  resting  so  solely  on  man's 
perceptions  of  the  right,  he  lost  one  attribute  of  the  true 
hero— faith.  We  do  not  mean  that  word  in  the  religious 
sense  alone,  but  in  the  more  comprehensive.  He  did  not 
rely  on  the  Celestial  Something  pervading  all  nature, 
never  seen,  only  felt  when  duly  courted,  stronger  and 
lovelier  than  what  eye  could  behold  and  mere  reason 
could  embrace.  Believing,  it  is  true,  in  God,  he  lost 
those  fine  links  that  unite  God  to  man's  secret  heart,  and 
which  are  woven  alike  from  the  simplicity  of  the  child 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  poet.  To  use  a  modern  illustra- 
tion, his  large  mind  was  a  "  cupola  lighted  from  below." 

His  bravery,  though  inflexible  as  the  fiercest  sea-king's, 
when  need  arose  for  its  exercise,  was  not  his  prominent 
characteristic.  He  despised  the  brute  valor  of  Tostig, — 
his  bravery  was  a  necessary  part  of  a  firm  and  balanced 

M 


178  HAROLD. 

manhood  —  the  bravery  of  Hector,  not  Achilles.  Con- 
stitutionally averse  to  bloodshed,  he  conld  seem  timid 
where  daring  only  gratified  a  wanton  vanity,  or  aimed  at 
a  selfish  object.  On  the  other  hand,  if  duty  demanded 
daring,  no  danger  could  deter,  no  policy  warp  him ; — he 
could  seem  rash  ;  he  could  even  seem  merciless.  In  the 
what  ought  to  be,  he  understood  a  must  be. 

And  it  was  natural  to  this  peculiar,  yet  thoroughly 
English  temperament,  to  be,  in  action,  rather  steadfast 
and  patient  than  quick  and  ready.  Placed  in  perils 
familiar  to  him,  nothing  could  exceed  his  vigor  and  ad- 
dress ;  but  if  taken  unawares,  and  before  his  judgment 
could  come  to  his  aid,  he  was  liable  to  be  surprised  into 
error.  Large  minds  are  rarely  quick,  unless  they  have 
been  corrupted  into  unnatural  vigilance  by  the  necessities 
of  suspicion.  But  a  nature  more  thoroughly  unsuspect- 
ing, more  frank,  trustful,  and  genuinely  loyal  than  that 
young  Earl's,  it  was  impossible  to  conceive.  All  these 
attributes  considered,  we  have  the  key  to  much  of  Harold's 
character  and  conduct  in  the  later  events  of  his  fated  and 
tragic  life. 

But  with  this  temperament,  so  manly  and  simple,  we 
are  not  to  suppose  that  Harold,  while  rejecting  the  super- 
stitions of  one  class,  was  so  far  beyond  his  time  as  to  re- 
ject those  of  another.  No  son  of  fortune,  no  man  placing 
himself  and  the  world  in  antagonism,  can  ever  escape 
from  some  belief  in  the  Invisible.  Caesar  could  ridicule 
and  profane  the  mystic  rites  of  Roman  mythology,  but 


HAROLD.  179 

he  must  still  believe  in  his  fortune,  as  in  a  god.  And 
Harold,  in  his  very  studies,  seeing  the  freest  and  boldest 
minds  of  antiquity  subjected  to  influences  akin  to  those 
of  his  Saxon  forefathers,  felt  less  shame  in  yielding  to 
them,  vain  as  they  might  be,  than  in  monkish  impostures 
so  easily  detected.  Though  hitherto  he  had  rejected  all 
direct  appeal  to  the  magic  devices  of  Hilda,  the  sound 
of  her  dark  sayings,  heard  in  childhood,  still  vibrated  on 
his  soul  as  man.  Belief  in  omens,  in  days  lucky  or  un- 
lucky, in  the  stars,  was  universal  in  every  class  of  the 
Saxon.  Harold  had  his  own  fortur>ate  day,  the  day  of 
his  nativity,  the  14th  of  October.  All  enterprises  un- 
dertaken on  that  day  had  hitherto  been  successful.  He 
believed  in  the  virtue  of  that  day,  as  Cromwell  believed 
in  his  3rd  of  September.  For  the  rest,  we  have  described 
him  as  he  was  in  that  part  of  his  career  in  which  he  is 
now  presented.  Whether  altered  by  fate  and  circum- 
stances, time  will  show.  As  yet,  no  selfish  ambition 
leagued  with  the  natural  desire  of  youth  and  intellect  for 
their  fair  share  of  fame  and  power.  His  patriotism,  fed 
by  the  example  of  Greek  and  Roman  worthies,  was 
genuine,  pure,  and  ardent ;  he  could  have  stood  in  the 
pass  with  Leonidas,  or  leaped  into  the  gulf  with  Curtius. 


180  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER    II. 


At  dawn,  Harold  woke  from  uneasy  and  broken  slum- 
bers, and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  Hilda  large  and 
fair,  and  unutterably  calm,  as  the  face  of  Egyptian  sphinx. 

"Have  thy  dreams  been  prophetic,  son  of  Godwin?" 
said  the  Yala. 

'•  Our  Lord  forfend,"  replied  the  Earl,  with  unusual 
devoutness. 

"  Tell  them,  and  let  me  read  the  rede  ;  sense  dwells  in 
the  voices  of  the  night." 

Harold  mused,  and  after  a  short  pause  he  said : 

*'  Methinks,  Hilda,  I  can  myself  explain  how  those 
dreams  came  to  haunt  me." 

Then  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  he  continued,  while 
he  fixed  his  clear  penetrating  eyes  upon  his  hostess :  — 

"Tell  me  frankly,  Hilda,  didst  thou  not  cause  some 
light  to  shine  on  yonder  knoll,  by  the  mound  and  stone, 
within  the  temple  of  the  Druids?" 

But  if  Harold  had  suspected  himself  to  be  the  dupe  of 
some  imposture,  the  thought  vanished  when  he  saw  the 
look  of  keen  interest,  even  of  awe,  which  Hilda's  face 
instantly  assumed. 

"  Didst  thou  see  a  light,  son  of  Godwin,  by  the  altar 
of  Thor,  and  over  the  bautastein  of  the  mighty  dead  ?  a 
flame,  lambent  and  livid,  like  moonbeams  collected  over 
snow?" 


HAROLD.  181 

"So  seemed  to  me  the  light," 

"No  human  hand  ever  kindled  that  flame,  which 
announces  the  presence  of  the  Dead,"  said  Hilda,  with  a 
tremulous  voice ;  "  though  seldom,  uncompelled  by  the 
seid  and  the  rune,  does  the  spectre  itself  warn  the  eyes 
of  the  living." 

"What  shape,  or  what  shadow  of  shape,  does  that 
spectre  assume  ?  " 

"  It  rises  in  the  midst  of  the  flame,  pale  as  the  mist  on 
the  mountain,  and  vast  as  the  giants  of  old ;  with  the 
ssex,  and  the  spear,  and  the  shield,  of  the  sons  of  Woden. 
Thou  hast  seen  the  Scin-lseca,"  continued  Hilda,  looking 
full  o.n  the  face  of  the  Earl. 

"If  thou  deceivest  me  not,"  began  Harold,  doubting 
still. 

"  Deceive  thee  !  not  to  save  the  crown  of  the  Saxon 
dare  I  mock  the  might  of  the  dead.  Knowest  thou  not 
—  or  hath  thy  vain  lore  stood  in  place  of  the  lore  of  thy 
fathers — that  where  a  hero  of  old  is  buried,  his  treasures 
lie  in  his  grave ;  that  over  that  grave  is  at  times  seen  at 
night  the  flame  that  thou  sawest,  and  the  dead  in  his 
image  of  air  ?  Oft  seen  in  the  days  that  are  gone,  when 
the  dead  and  the  living  had  one  faith — were  one  race  ; 
now  never  marked,  but  for  portent,  and  prophecy,  and 
doom  :  glory  or  woe  to  the  eyes  that  see  I  On  yon  knoll, 
^sc,  (the  first-born  of  Cerdic,  that  Father-King  of  the 
Saxons,)  has  his  grave  where  the  mound  rises  green,  and 
the  stone  gleams  wan,  by  the  altar  of  Thor.  He  smote 
the  Britons  in  their  temple,  and  he  fell  smiting.     They 

L  — 16 


182  HAROLD. 

buried  him  in  bis  arms,  and  with  the  treasures  his  right 
hand  had  won.  Fate  hangs  on  the  house  of  Cerdic,  or 
the  realm  of  the  Saxon,  w^hen  Woden  calls  the  laeca  of 
his  son  from  the  grave." 

Hilda,  much  troubled,  bent  her  face  over  her  clasped 
hands,  and,  rocking  to  and  fro,  muttered  some  runes  un- 
intelligible to  the  ear  of  her  listener.  Then  she  turned 
to  him,  commandingly,  and  said  :  — 

"  Thy  dreams  now,  indeed,  are  oracles,  more  true  than 
living  Vala  could  charm  with  the  wand,  and  the  rune  : 
Unfold  them." 

Thus  adjured,  Harold  resumed:  — 

"  Methought,  then,  that  I  was  on  a  broad,  level  plain, 
in  the  noon  of  day  ;  all  was  clear  to  my  eye,  and  glad  to 
my  heart.  I  was  alone,  and  went  on  my  way  rejoicing. 
Suddenly  the  earth  opened  under  my  feet,  and  I  fell  deep, 
fathom-deep  ;  — deep,  as  if  to  that  central  pit,  which  our 
heathen  sires  called  Nififelheim  —  the  Home  of  Yapor  — 
the  hell  of  the  dead  who  die  without  glory.  Stunned  by 
the  fall,  I  lay  long,  locked  as  in  a  dream  in  the  midst  of 
a  dream.  When  I  opened  my  eyes,  behold,  I  was  girt 
round  with  dead  men's  bones  ;  and  the  bones  moved  round 
me,  undulating,  as  the  dry  leaves  that  wirble  round  in 
the  winds  of  the  winter.  And  from  the  midst  of  them 
peered  a  trunkless  skull,  and  on  the  skull  was  a  mitre, 
and  from  the  yawning  jaws  a  voice  came  hissing,  as  a 
serpent's  hiss,  '  Harold  the  scorner,  thou  art  ours ! ' 
Then,  as  from  the  buzz  of  an  army,  came  voices  multi- 
tudinous, '  Thou  art  ours  ! '     I  sought  to  rise,  and  behold 


HAROLD.  183 

my  limbs  were  bound,  and  the  gyves  were  fine  and  frail, 
as  the  web  of  the  gossamer,  and  they  weighed  on  me  like 
chains  of  iron.  And  I  felt  an  anguish  of  soul  that  no 
W'ords  can  speak — an  anguish  both  of  horror  and  shame  ; 
and  my  manhood  seemed  to  ooze  from  me,  and  I  was 
weak  as  a  child  new  born.  Then  suddenly  there  rushed 
forth  a  freezing  wind,  as  from  an  air  of  ice,  and  the  bones 
from  their  whirl  stood  still,  and  the  buzz  ceased,  and  the 
mitred  skull  grinned  on  me  still  and  voiceless ;  and  ser- 
pents darted  their  arrowy  tongues  from  the  eyeless  sock- 
ets. And  lo,  before  me  stood  (0  Hilda,  I  see  it  now  !) 
the  form  of  the  spectre  that  had  risen  from  yonder  knoll. 
With  his  spear,  and  ssex,  and  his  shield,  he  stood  before 
me ;  and  his  face,  though  pale  as  that  of  one  long  dead, 
was  stern  as  the  face  of  a  warrior  in  the  van  of  armed 
man  ;  he  stretched  his  hand,  and  he  smote  his  saex  on  his 
shield,  and  the  clang  sounded  hollow ;  the  gyves  broke  at 
the  clash — I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  I  stood  side  by  side 
with  the  phantom,  dauntless.  Then,  suddenly,  the  mitre 
on  the  skull  changed  to  a  helm  ;  and  where  the  skull  had 
grinned,  trunkless  and  harmless,  stood  a  shape  like  War, 
made  incarnate ;  —  a  Thing  above  giants,  with  its  crest 
to  the  stars,  and  its  form  an  eclipse  between  the  sun  and 
the  day.  The  earth  changed  to  ocean,  and  the  ocean 
was  blood,  and  the  ocean  seemed  deep  as  the  seas  where 
the  whales  sport  in  the  North,  but  the  surge  rose  not  to 
the  knee  of  that  measureless  image.  And  the  ravens 
came  round  it  from  all  parts  of  the  heaven,  and  the  vul- 
tures with  dead  eves  and  dull  scream.    And  all  the  bones, 


184  HAROLD. 

before  scattered  and  shapeless,  sprung  to  life  and  to 
form,  some  monks  and  some  warriors ;  and  there  was  a 
hoot,  and  a  hiss,  and  a  roar,  and  the  storm  of  arms.  And 
a  broad  pennon  rose  out  of  the  sea  of  blood,  and  from 
the  clouds  came  a  pale  hand,  and  it  wrote  on  the  pennon, 
"  Harold  the  Accursed  I '  Then  said  the  stern  shape  by 
his  side,  '  Harold,  fearest  thou  the  dead  men's  bones  ?  ^ 
and  its  voice  was  as  a  trumpet  that  gives  strength  to  the 
craven,  and  I  answered,  'Niddering,  indeed,  were  Harold 
to  fear  the  bones  of  the  dead  ! " 

"As  I  spoke,  as  if  hell  had  burst  loose,  came  a  gibber 
of  scorn,  and  all  vanished  at  once,  save  the  ocean  of 
blood.  Slowly  came  from  the  north,  over  the  sea,  a  bird 
like  a  raven,  save  that  it  was  blood-red,  like  the  ocean  ; 
and  there  came  from  the  south,  swimming  towards  me,  a 
lion.  And  I  looked  to  the  spectre  ;  and  the  pride  of  war 
had  gone  from  its  face,  which  was  so  sad  that  methought 
I  forgot  raven  and  lion,  and  wept  to  see  it.  Then  the 
spectre  took  me  in  its  vast  arms,  and  its  breath  froze  my 
veins,  and  it  kissed  my  brow,  and  my  lips,  and  said,  gently 
and  fondly,  as  my  mother,  in  some  childish  sickness,  '  Ha- 
rold, my  best  beloved,  mourn  not.  Thou  hast  all  which 
the  sons  of  Woden  dreamed  in  their  dreams  of  Yalhalla  I  * 
Thus  saying,  the  form  receded  slowly,  slowly,  still  gazing 
on  me  with  its  sad  eyes.  I  stretched  forth  my  hand  to 
detain  it,  and  in  my  grasp  was  a  shadowy  sceptre.  And, 
lo  1  round  me,  as  if  from  the  earth,  sprang  up  thegns 
and  chiefs,  in  their  armor  ;  and  a  board  was  spread,  and 
a  wassail  was  blithe  around  me.    So  my  heart  felt  cheered 


HAROLD,  186 

and  light,  and  in  my  hand  was  still  the  sceptre.  And  we 
feasted  long  and  merrily ;  but  over  the  feast  flapped  the 
wings  of  the  blood-red  raven,  and,  over  the  blood-red  sea 
beyond,  swam  the  lion,  near  and  near.  And  in  the  hea- 
vens there  were  two  stars,  one  pale  and  steadfast,  the 
other  rushing  and  luminous  ;  and  a  shadowy  hand  pointed 
from  the  cloud  to  the  pale  star,  and  a  voice  said,  '  Lo, 
Harold  !  the  star  that  shone  on  thy  birth.'  And  another 
hand  pointed  to  the  luminous  star,  and  another  voice 
said,  '  Lo  I  the  star  that  shone  on  the  birth  of  the  victor.* 
Then,  lo  !  the  bright  star  grew  fiercer  and  larger ;  and, 
rolling  on  with  a  hissing  sound,  as  when  hot  iron  is  dipped 
into  water,  it  rushed  over  the  disk  of  the  mournful  planet, 
and  the  whole  hej^^^s" seemed'  on  fire.  So  methought 
the  dream  fadg^wip,  lahd  in  fadings  I  Heard  a  full  swell 
of  music,  as  the  swell  of  an  anthem  in  an\\aisle  :  a  music 
like  that  which  but  duce  in.my  life  i'heard  llwhen  I  stood 
in  the  train  oi^dward,  in  the  halls  of  Tyinchester,  the 
day  they  crowned  him  king." 

Harold  ceased,  and'  the  Tafe  slowly  lifted  her  head 
from  her  bosom,  and  surveyed  him  in  profound  silence, 
and  with  a  gaze  that  seemed  vacant  and  meaningless. 

"Why  dost  thou  look  on  me  thus,  and  why  art  thou 
so  silent  ? "  asked  the  Earl. 

"  The  cloud  is  on  my  sight,  and  the  burthen  is  on  my 
soul,  and  I  cannot  read  thy  rede,"  murmured  the  Yala. 
"But  morn,  the  ghost-chaser,  that  waketh  life,  the  action, 
charms  into  slumber  life,  the  thought.  As  the  stars  pale 
at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  so  fade  the  lights  of  the  soul 
16* 


18C  HAROLD. 

when  the  buds  revive  in  the  dews,  and  the  lark  sings  to 
the  day.  In  thy  dream  lies  thy  future,  as  the  wing  of  the 
moth  in  the  web  of  the  changing  worm  ;  but,  whether 
for  weal  or  for  woe,  thou  shalt  burst  through  thy  mesh, 
and  spread  thy  plumes  in  the  air.  Of  myself  I  know 
nought.  Await  the  hour  when  Skulda  shall  pass  into  the 
soul  of  her  servant,  and  thy  fate  shall  rush  from  my  lips 
as  the  rush  of  the  waters  from  the  heart  of  the  cave." 

"  I  am  content  to  abide,"  said  Harold,  with  his  wonted 
smile,  so  calm  and  so  lofty  :  "  but  I  cannot  promise  thee 
that  I  shall  heed  thy  rede,  or  obey  thy  warning,  when  my 
reason  hath  awoke,  as  while  I  speak  it  awakens,  from  the 
fumes  of  the  fancy  and  the  mists  of  the  night." 

The  Yala  sighed  heavily,  but  made  no  answer. 


CHAPTER  Til. 

GiTHA,  Earl  Godwin's  wife,  sate  in  her  chamber,  and 
her  heart  was  sad.  In  the  room  was  one  of  her  sons,  the 
one  dearer  to  her  than  all,  Wolnoth,  her  darling.  For 
the  rest  of  her  sons  were  stalwart  and  strong  of  frame, 
and  in  their  infancy  she  had  known  not  a  mother's  fears. 
But  Wolnoth  had  come  into  the  world  before  his  time, 
and  sharp  had  been  the  travail  of  the  mother,  and  long 
between  life  and  death  the  struggle  of  the  new-born  babe. 
And  his  cradle  had  been  rocked  with  a  trembling  knee, 
and  his  pillow  been  bathed  witli  hot  tears.     Frail  had 


HAROLD.  187 

been  his  childhood  —  a  thing  that  hung  on  lier  care  ; 
and  now,  as  the  boy  grew,  blooming  and  strong,  into 
youth,  the  mother  felt  that  she  had  given  life  twice  to 
her  child.  Therefore  was  he  more  dear  to  her  than  the 
rest ;  and,  therefore,  as  she  gazed  upon  him  now,  fair 
and  smiling,  and  hopeful,  she  mourned  for  him  more  than 
for  Sweyn,  the  outcast  and  criminal,  on  his  pilgrimage 
of  woe,  to  the  waters  of  Jordan,  and  the  tomb  of  our 
Lord,  For  Wolnoth,  selected  as  the  hostage  for  the 
faith  of  his  house,  was  to  be  sent  from  her  arms  to  the 
Court  of  William  the  Xorman.  And  the  youth  smiled 
and  was  gay,  choosing  vestment  and  mantle,  and  ateghars 
of  gold,  that  he  might  be  flaunting  and  brave  in  the  halls 
of  knighthood  and  beauty,  —  the  school  of  the  proudest 
chivalry  of  the  Christian  world.  Too  young  and  too 
thoughtless,  to  share  the  wise  hate  of  his  elders  for  the 
manners  and  forms  of  the  foreigners,  their  gaiety  and 
splendor,  as  his  boyhood  had  seen  them,  relieved  the 
gloom  of  the  cloister  court,  and  contrasting  the  spleen 
and  the  rudeness  of  the  Saxon  temperament,  had  dazzled 
his  fancy  and  half  Normanized  his  mind.  A  proud  and 
happy  boy  was  he  to  go  as  hostage  for  the  faith,  and  re- 
presentative of  the  rank,  of  his  mighty  kinsmen  ;  and 
step  into  manhood  in  the  eyes  of  the  dames  of  Rouen. 

By  Wolnoth's  side  stood  his  young  sister,  Thyra,  a 
mere  infant ;  and  her  innocent  sympathy  with  her  bro- 
ther's pleasure  in  gaud  and  toy  saddened  Githa  yet  more. 

"  0  my  son  ! "  said  the  troubled  mother,  "  why,  of  all 
my  children,  have  they  chosen  thee  ?     Harold   is  wise 


188  HAROLD. 

against  danger,  and  Tostig  is  fierce  against  foes,  and 
Gurth  is  too  loving  to  wake  hate  in  the  sternest,  and 
from  the  mirth  of  sunny  Leofwine  sorrow  glints  aside,  as 
the  shaft  from  the  sheen  of  a  shield.  But  thou,  thou,  0 
beloved  !  —  cursed  be  the  king  that  cliose  thee,  and  cruel 
was  the  father  that  forgot  the  light  of  the  mother's  eyes  ! " 

"  Tut,  mother  the  dearest,"  said  Wolnoth,  pausing 
from  the  contemplation  of  a  silk  robe,  all  covered  with 
broidered  peacocks,  which  had  been  sent  him  as  a  gift 
from  his  sister  the  queen,  and  wrought  with  her  own  fair 
hands ;  for  a  notable  needle-woraan,  despite  her  sage 
leer,  was  the  wife  of  the  Saint  King,  as  sorrowful  women 
mostly  are  —  "Tut!  the  bird  must  leave  the  nest  when 
the  wings  are  fledged.  Harold  the  eagle,  Tostig  the  kite, 
Gurth  the  ring-dove,  and  Leofwine  the  stare.  See,  my 
wings  are  the  richest  of  all,  mother,  and  bright  is  the 
sun  in  which  thy  peacock  shall  spread  his  pranked 
plumes." 

Then,  observing  that  his  liveliness  provoked  no  smile 
from  his  mother,  he  approached,  and  said  more  seriously : 

''Bethink  thee,  mother  mine.  No  other  choice  was 
left  to  king  or  to  father.  Harold,  and  Tostig,  and  Leof- 
wine, have  their  lordships  and  offices.  Their  posts  are 
fixed,  and  they  stand  as  the  columns  of  our  house.  And 
Gurth  is  so  young,  and  so  Saxish,  and  so  the  shadow  of 
Harold,  that  his  hate  to  the  Norman  is  a  by-word 
already  among  our  youths  ;  for  hate  is  the  more  marked 
in  a  temper  of  love,  as  the  blue  of  this  border  seems 


HAROLD.  189 

black  against  the  white  of  the  woof.  But  I;  —  the  good 
king  knows  that  I  shall  be  welcome,  for  the  Norman 
knights  love  Wolnoth,  and  I  have  spent  hours  by  the 
knees  of  Montgommeri  and  Grautmesnil,  listening  to  the 
feats  of  Kolfganger,  and  playing  with  their  gold  chains 
of  knighthood.  And  the  stout  Count  himself  shall  knight 
me,  and  I  shall  come  back  with  the  spurs  of  gold  which 
thy  ancestors,  the  brave  kings  of  Norway  and  Daneland, 
wore  ere  knighthood  was  known.  Come,  kiss  me,  my 
mother,  and  come  see  the  brave  falcons  Harold  has  sent 
me  :  — true  Welch  !  " 

Githa  rested  her  face  on  her  son's  shoulder,  and  her 
tears  blinded  her.  The  door  opened  gently,  and  Harold 
entered ;  and  with  the  Earl,  a  pale  dark-haired  boy, 
Haco,  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

But  Githa,  absorbed  in  her  darling  Wolnoth,  scarce 
saw  the  grandchild  reared  afar  from  her  knees,  and  hurried 
at  once  to  Harold.  In  his  presence  she  felt  comfort  and 
safety ;  for  Wolnoth  leaned  on  her  heart,  and  her  heart 
leaned  on  Harold. 

"0  son,  son  ! '^  she  cried,  "firmest  of  hand,  surest  of 
faith,  and  wisest  of  brain,  in  the  house  of  Godwin,  tell, 
me  that  he  yonder,  he  thy  young  brother  risks  no  danger 
in  the  halls  of  the  Normans  ! '' 

"Not  more  than  in  these,  mother,"  answered  Harold, 
soothing  her,  with  caressing  lip  and  gentle  tone.  'Tierce 
and  ruthless,  men  say,  is  William  the  Duke  against  foes 
with  their  swords  in  their  hands,  but  debonnair  and  mild 


11)0  HAROLD. 

to  the  gentle,*  frank  host  and  kind  lord.  And  these 
Normans  have  a  code  of  their  own,  more  grave  than  all 
morals,  more  binding  than  even  their  fanatic  religion. 
Thou  knowest  it  well,  mother,  for  it  comes  from  thy  race 
of  the  North,  and  this  code  of  lionor,  they  call  it,  makes 
Wolnoth's  head  as  sacred  as  the  relics  of  a  saint  set  in 
zimmes.  Ask  only,  my  brother,  when  thou  comest  in 
sight  of  the  Norman  Duke,  ask  only  '  the  kiss  of  peace,* 
and,  that  kiss  on  thy  brow,  thou  wilt  sleep  more  safely 
than  if  all  the  banners  of  England  waved  over  thy 
couch."  f 

"  But  how  long  shall  the  exile  be  ?"  asked  Githa,  com- 
forted. 

Harold's  brow  fell. 

*'  Mother,  not  even  to  cheer  thee  will  I  deceive.  The 
time  of  the  hostageship  rests  with  the  king  and  the  duke. 
As  long  as  the  one  affects  fear  from  the  race  of  Godwin, 
as  long  as  the  other  feigns  care  for  such  priests  or  such 
knights  as  were  not  banished  from  the  realm,  being  not 
courtiers,  but  scattered  wide  and  far  in  convent  and  home- 


*  So  Robert  of  Gloucester  says  pithily  of  William,  "  King  "Wylliam 
was  to  mild  men  debonnere  ynou," — Hearne,  v.  ii.  p.  309. 

f  This  kiss  of  peace  was  held  singularly  sacred  by  the  Normans, 
and  all  the  more  knightly  races  of  the  continent.  Even  the  craftiest 
dissimulator,  designing  fraud  and  stratagem,  and  murder  to  a  foe, 
would  not,  to  gain  his  ends,  betray  the  pledge  of  the  kiss  of  peace. 
When  Henry  II.  consented  to  meet  Becket  after  his  return  from 
Rome,  and  promised  to  remedy  all  of  which  his  prelate  complained, 
he  struck  prophetic  dismay  into  Becket's  heart  by  evading  the  kiss 
of  peace. 


HAROLD.  191 

stead,  so  long  will  Wolnoth  and  Haco  be  guests  in  the 
Korman  Halls." 

Githa  wrung  her  hands. 

"  But  comfort,  my  mother  ;  Wolnoth  is  young,  his  eye 
is  keen,  and  his  spirit  prompt  and  quick.  He  will  mark 
these  Norman  captains,  he  will  learn  their  strength  and 
their  weakness,  their  manner  of  war,  and  he  will  come 
back,  not  as  Edward  the  King  came,  a  lover  of  things 
un-Saxon,  but  able  to  warn  and  to  guide  us  against  the 
plots  of  the  camp-court,  which  threatens  more,  year  by 
year,  the  peace  of  the  world.  And  he  will  see  there  arts 
we  may  worthily  borrow  ;  not  the  cut  of  a  tunic,  and  the 
fold  of  a  gonna,  but  the  arts  of  men  who  found  states 
and  build  nations.  William  the  Duke  is  splendid  and 
wnse ;  merchants  tell  us  how  crafts  thrive  under  his  iron 
hand,  and  warmen  say  that  his  forts  are  constructed  with 
skill,  and  his  battle-schemes  planned  as  the  mason  plans 
key-stone  and  arch,  with  weight  portioned  out  to  the 
prop,  and  the  force  of  the  hand  made  tenfold  by  the 
science  of  the  brain.  So  that  the  boy  will  return  to  us 
a  man  round  and  complete,  a  teacher  of  greybeards,  and 
the  sage  of  his  kin  ;  fit  for  earldom  and  rule,  fit  for  glory 
and  England.  Grieve  not,  daughter  of  the  Dane  kings, 
that  thy  son,  the  best  loved,  hath  nobler  school  and  wider 
field  than  his  brothers." 

This  appeal  touched  the  proud  heart  of  the  niece  of 
Canute  the  Great,  and  she  almost  forgot  the  grief  of  her 
love  in  the  hope  of  her  ambition. 

She  dried  her  tears  and    smiled  upon  Wolnoth,  and 


192  HAROLD. 

already,  in  the  dreams  of  a  mother's  vanity,  saw  hira 
great  as  Godwin  in  council,  and  prosperous  as  Harold  in 
the  field.  Nor,  half  Norman  as  he  was,  did  the  young 
man  seem  insensible  of  the  manly  and  elevated  patriotism 
of  his  brother's  hinted  lessons,  though  he  felt  they  im- 
plied reproof.  He  came  to  the  Earl,  whose  arm  was 
round  his  mother,  and  said  with  a  frank  heartiness  not 
usual  to  a  nature  somewhat  frivolous  and  irresolute  — 

"  Harold,  thy  tongue  could  kindle  stones  into  men,  and 
warm  those  men  into  Saxons.  Thy  Wolnoth  shall  not 
hang  his  head  with  shame  when  he  comes  back  to  our 
merrie  land  with  shaven  locks  and  spurs  of  gold.  For 
if  thou  doubtest  his  race  from  his  look,  thou  shalt  put 
thy  right  hand  on  his  heart,  and  feel  England  beat  there 
in  every  pulse." 

"Brave  words,  and  well  spoken,"  cried  the  Earl,  and 
he  placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head  as  in  benison. 

Till  then,  Haco  had  stood  apart,  conversing  with  the 
infant  Thyra,  whom  his  dark,  mournful  face  awed  and 
yet  touched,  for  she  nestled  close  to  him,  and  put  her 
little  hand  in  his ;  but  now,  inspired  no  less  than  his 
cousin  by  Harold's  noble  speech,  he  came  proudly  forward 
by  Wolnoth's  side,  and  said-^ 

"I,  too,  am  English,  and  I  have  the  name  of  English- 
man to  redeem." 

Ere  Harold  could  reply,  Githa  exclaimed  — 

"  Leave  tliere  thy  right  hand  on  my  child's  head,  and 
say,  simply,  — '  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  if  the  Duke 
detain  Wolnoth,  son  of  Githa,  against  just  plea,   and 


HAROLD.  193 

king's  assent  to  his  return,  I,  Harold,  will,  failing  letter 
and  nuncius,  cross  the  seas,  to  restore  the  child  to  the 
mother.'  " 

Harold  hesitated. 

A  sharp  cry  of  reproach  that  went  to  his  heart  broke 
from  Githa's  lips. 

"Ah  !  cold  and  self-heeding,  wilt  thou  send  him  to  bear 
a  peril  from  which  thou  shrinkest  thyself  ? " 

"  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  then,"  said  the  Earl,  "  if, 
fair  time  elapsed,  peace  in  England,  without  plea  of  jus- 
tice, and  against  my  king's  fiat,  Duke  William  of  Nor- 
mandy detain  the  hostages,  —  thy  son  and  this  dear  boy, 
more  sacred  and  more  dear  to  me  for  his  father's  woes, — 
I  will  cross  the  seas  to  restore  the  child  to  the  mother, 
the  fatherless  to  his  father-land.  So  help  me,  all-seeing 
One,  Amen  and  Amen  ! " 


CHAPTER   lY. 

We  have  seen,  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  record,  that 
Harold  possessed,  amongst  his  numerous  and  more  stately 
possessions,  a  house,  not  far  from  the  old  Roman  dwell- 
ing-place of  Hilda.  And  in  this  residence  he  now  (save 
when  the  king)  made  his  chief  abode.  He  gave  as  the 
reasons  for  his  selection,  the  charm  it  took,  in  his  eyes, 
from  that  signal  mark  of  affection  which  his  ceorls  had 
rendered  him,  in  purchasing  the  house  and  tilling  the 

I.  — 17  N 


19-1  HAROLD. 

ground  in  his  absence ;  and  more  especially  the  con- 
venience of  its  vicinity  to  the  new  palace  at  Westminster  ; 
for  by  Edward's  special  desire,  while  the  other  brothers 
repaired  to  their  different  domains,  Harold  remained  near 
his  royal  person.  To  use  the  words  of  the  great  Nor- 
wegian chronicler,  "  Harold  was  always  with  the  Court 
itself,  and  nearest  to  the  king  in  all  service."  "  The  king 
loved  him  very  much,  and  kept  him  as  his  own  son,  for 
he  had  no  children."  *  This  attendance  on  Edward  was 
naturally  most  close  at  the  restoration  to  power  of  the 
Earl's  family.  For  Harold,  mild  and  conciliating,  was, 
like  Aired,  a  great  peace-maker,  and  Edward  had  never 
cause  to  complain  of  him,  as  he  believed  he  had  of  the 
rest  of  that  haughty  house.  But  the  true  spell  which 
made  dear  to  Harold  the  rude  building  of  timber,  with 
its  doors  open  all  day  to  its  lithsmen,  when  with  a  light 
heart  be  escaped  from  the  halls  of  Westminster,  was  the 
fair  face  of  Edith  his  neighbor.  The  impression  which 
this  young  girl  had  made  upon  Harold  seemed  to  par- 
take of  the  strength  of  a  fatality.  For  Harold  had  loved 
her  before  the  marvellous  beauty  of  her  womanhood  be- 
gan ;  and,  occupied  from  his  earliest  youth  in  grave  and 
earnest  affairs,  his  heart  had  never  been  frittered  away 
on  the  mean  and  frivolous  affections  of  the  idle.  Now, 
ill  that  comparative  leisure  of  his  stormy  life,  he  was 
naturally  most  open  to  the  influence  of  a  charm  more 
potent  than  all  the  glamoury  of  Hilda. 


*  Snorro  Sturleson's  Heimskringla.  —  Laing's  Translation,  pp. 


HAROLD.  195 

The  autumn  sun  shone  through  the  golden  glades  of 
the  forest-laud,  when  Edith  sate  alone  on  the  knoll  that 
faced  forest-land  and  road,  and  watched  afar. 

And  the  birds  sung  cheerily;  but  that  was  not  the 
sound  for  which  Edith  listened  :  and  the  squirrel  darted 
from  tree  to  tree  on  the  sward  beyond  ;  but  not  to  see 
the  games  of  the  squirrel  sate  Edith  by  the  grave  of  the 
Teuton.  By-and-by,  came  the  cry  of  the  dogs,  and  the 
tall  greyhound  *  of  Wales  emerged  from  the  bosky  dells. 
Then  Edith's  heart  heaved,  and  her  eyes  brightened. 
And  now,  with  his  hawk  on  his  wrist,  and  his  spear  f  iu 
his  hand,  came  through  the  yellowing  boughs,  Harold 
the  Earl. 

And  well  may  ye  ween,  that  his  heart  beat  as  loud  and 
his  eye  shone  as  bright  as  Edith's,  when  he  saw  who  had 
watched  for  his  footsteps  on  the  sepulchral  knoll ;  Love, 
forgetful  of  the  presence  of  Death  ; — so  has  it  ever  been, 
so  ever  shall  it  be  !  He  hastened  his  stride,  and  bounded 
up  the  gentle  hillock,  and  his  dogs,  with  a  joyous  bark, 
came  round  the  knees  of  Edith.  Then  Harold  shook  the 
bird  from  his  wrist,  and  it  fell,  with  its  light  wing,  on  the 
altar-stone  of  Thor. 

"  Thou  art  late,  but  thou  art  welcome,  Harold  my 
kinsman,"  said  Edith,  simply,  as  she  bent  her  face  over 
the  hounds,  whose  gaunt  heads  she  caressed. 


*  The  gre-hound  was  so  called  from  hunting  the  gre,  or  badger. 

f  The  spear  and  the  hawk  were  as  the  badges  of  Saxon  nobility; 
and  a  thegn  was  seldom  seen  abroad  without  the  one  on  his  left 
wrist,  the  other  in  his  right  hand. 


196  HAROLD. 

"  Call  me  not  kinsman,"  said  Harold,  shrinking,  and 
with  a  dark  cloud  on  his  broad  brow. 

"And  why,  Harold?" 

"Oh,  Edith,  why?"  murmured  Harold;  and  his 
thought  added,  "  she  knows  not,  poor  child,  that  in  that 
mockery  of  kinship  the  Church  sets  its  ban  on  our 
bridals." 

He  turned,  and  chid  his  dogs  fiercely  as  they  gambolled 
in  rough  glee  round  their  fair  friend. 

The  hounds  crouched  at  the  feet  of  Edith ;  and  Edith 
looked  in  mild  wonder  at  the  troubled  face  of  the  Earl. 

"  Thine  eyes  rebuke  me,  Edith,  more  than  my  words 
the  hounds  !  "  said  Harold,  gently.  "But  there  is  quick 
blood  in  my  veins  ;  and  the  mind  must  be  calm  when  it 
would  control  the  humor.  Calm  was  my  mind,  sweet 
Edith,  in  the  old  time,  when  thou  wert  an  infant  on  my 
knee,  and  wreathing,  with  these  rude  hands,  flower-chains 
for  thy  neck  like  the  swan's  down,  I  said  — '  The  flowers 
fade,  but  the  chain  lasts  when  love  weaves  it.'" 

Edith  again  bent  her  face  over  the  crouching  hounds, 
Harold  gazed  on  her  with  mournful  fondness ;  and  the 
bird  still  sung,  and  the  squirrel  swung  himself  again  from 
bough  to  bough.     Edith  spoke  first  — 

"  My  godmother,  thy  sister,  hath  sent  for  me,  Harold, 
and  I  am  to  go  to  the  court  to-morrow.  Shalt  thou  be 
there  ? " 

"Surely,"  said  Harold,  in  an  anxious  voice,  "surely,  I 
will  be  there  !  So  my  sister  hath  sent  for  thee  :  wittest 
thou  wherefore  ?" 


HAROLD.  191 

Edith  grew  very  pale,  and  her  tone  trembled  as  she 
answered  — 

"Well-a-day,  yes." 

"  It  is  as  I  feared,  then  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  great 
agitation  ;  "  and  my  sister,  whom  these  monks  have  de- 
mented, leagues  herself  with  the  king  against  the  law  of 
the  wide  welkin  and  the  grand  religion  of  the  human 
heart.  Oh  I "  continued  the  Earl,  kindling  into  an  en- 
thusiasm, rare  to  his  even  moods,  but  wrung  as  much  from 
his  broad  sense  as  from  his  strong  affection,  "  when  I 
compare  the  Saxon  of  our  land  and  day,  all  enervated 
and  decrepit  by  priestly  superstition,  with  his  forefathers 
in  the  first  Christian  era,  yielding  to  the  religion  they 
adopted  in  its  simple  truths,  but  not  to  that  rot  of  social 
happiness  and  free  manhood  which  this  cold  and  lifeless 
monachism — making  virtue  the  absence  of  human  ties — 
spreads  around — which  the  great  Bede,*  though  himself 
a  monk,  vainly  but  bitterly  denounced  ;  —  yea,  verily, 
when  I  see  the  Saxon  already  the  theowe  of  the  priest, 
I  shudder  to  ask  how  long  he  will  be  folk-free  of  the 
tyrant." 

He  paused,  breathed  hard,  and  seizing,  almost  sternly, 
the  girl's  trembling  arm,  he  resumed  between  his  set 
teeth,  —  "  So  they  would  have  thee  be  a  nun  ?  —  Thou 
wilt  not, — thou  durst  not,  —  thy  heart  would  perjure  thy 
vows  !  '* 

"  Ah,   Harold  ! "  answered  Edith,   moved  out  of  all 

*  Beb.  Epist.  ad  Egbert. 


198  HAROLD. 

bashfulness  by  his  emotion  and  her  own  terror  of  the 
convent,  and  answering,  if  with  the  love  of  a  woman,  still 
with  all  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child  :  "  better,  oh  better 
the  grate  of  the  body  than  that  of  the  heart !  —  In  the 
grave  I  could  still  live  for  those  I  love  ;  behind  the  Grate, 
love  itself  must  be  dead.  Yes,  thou  pitiest  me,  Harold; 
thy  sister,  the  queen,  is  gentle  and  kind ;  I  will  fling  my- 
self at  her  feet,  and  say  —  'Youth  is  fond,  and  the  world 
is  fair :  let  me  live  my  youth,  and  bless  God  in  the  world 
that  He  saw  was  good  I ' " 

"  My  own,  own  dear  Edith  I  "  exclaimed  Harold,  over- 
joyed. "  Say  this.  Be  firm  ;  they  cannot,  and  they  dare 
not  force  thee  !  The  law  cannot  wrench  thee  against  thy 
will  from  the  ward  of  thy  guardian  Hilda  ;  and,  where 
the  law  is,  there  Harold  at  least  is  strong, — and  there  at 
least  our  kinship,  if  my  bane,  is  thy  blessing." 

"Why,  Harold,  sayest  thou  that  our  kinship  is  thy 
bane  ?  It  is  so  sweet  to  me  to  whisper  to  myself,  '  Ha- 
rold is  of  thy  kith,  though  distant ;  and  it  is  natural  to 
thee  to  have  pride  in  his  fame,  and  joy  in  his  presence  !,' 
Why  is  that  sweetness  to  me,  to  thee  so  bitter  ?  " 

"  Because,"  answered  Harold,  dropping  the  hand  he 
had  clasped,  and  folding  his  arms  in  deep  dejection,  "  be- 
cause but  for  that  I  should  say — *  Edith,  I  love  thee  more 
than  a  brother  :  Edith,  be  Harold's  wife  ! '  And  were  I 
to  say  it,  and  were  we  to  wed,  all  the  priests  of  the  Saxons 
would  lift  up  their  hands  in  horror,  and  curse  our  nup- 
tials; and  I  should  be  the  bann'd  of  that  spectre  the 
Church  ;   and  my  house  would  shake  to  its  foundations ; 


HAROLD.  199 

and  ray  father,  and  my  brothers,  and  the  thegns  and  the 
proceres,  and  the  abbots  and  prelates,  whose  aid  makes 
our  force,  would  gather  round  me  with  threats  and  with 
prayers,  that  I  might  put  thee  aside.  And  mighty  as  I 
am  now,  so  mighty  once  was  Sweyn  my  brother ;  and 
outlaw  as  Sweyn  is  now,  might  Harold  be,  and  outlaw 
if  Harold  were,  what  breast  so  broad  as  his  could  fill  up 
the  gap  left  in  the  defence  of  England  ?  And  the  pas- 
sions that  I  curb,  as  a  rider  his  steed,  might  break  their 
rein  ;  and,  strong  in  justice,  and  child  of  Nature,  I  might 
come,  with  banner  and  mail,  against  Church,  and  House, 
and  Father-land  ;  and  the  blood  of  my  countrymen  might 
be  poured  like  water :  and,  therefore,  slave  to  the  lying 
thraldom  he  despises,  Harold  dares  not  say  to  the  maid 
of  his  love,  —  *  Give  me  thy  right  hand,  and  be  my 
bride  I ' " 

Edith  had  listened  in  bewilderment  and  despair,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his,  and  her  face  locked  and  rigid,  as  if 
turned  to  stone.  But  when  he  had  ceased,  and,  moving 
some  steps  away,  turned  aside  his  manly  countenance, 
that  Edith  might  not  perceive  its  anguish,  the  noble  and 
sublime  spirit  of  that  sex  which  ever,  when  lowliest,  most 
comprehends  the  lofty,  rose  superior  both  to  love  and  to 
grief;  and  rising,  she  advanced,  and  placing  her  slight 
hand  on  his  stalwart  shoulder,  she  said,  half  in  pity,  half 
in  reverence  — 

"Never  before,  0  Harold,  did  I  feel  so  proud  of  thee: 
for  Edith  could  not  love  thee  as  she  doth,  and  will  till 
the  grave  clasp  her,  if  thou  didst  not  love  England  more 


20U  HAROLD. 

than  Edith.  Harold,  till  this  hour  I  was  a  child,  and  I 
knew  not  my  own  heart :  I  look  now  into  that  heart,  and 
I  see  that  I  am  woman.  Harold,  of  the  cloister  I  have 
now  no  fear:  and  all  life  does  not  shrink  —  no,  it  en- 
larges, and  it  soars  into  one  desire — to  be  worthy  to  pray 
for  thee  I " 

"  Maid,  maid  I "  exclaimed  Harold,  abruptly,  and  pale 
as  the  dead,  "  do  not  say  thou  hast  no  fear  of  the  cloister. 
I  adjure,  I  command  thee,  build  not  up  between  us  that 
dismal  everlasting  wall.  While  thou  art  free,  Hope  yet 
survives  —  a  phantom,  haply,  but  Hope  still." 

"As  thou  wilt,  I  will,"  said  Edith,  humbly:  "order 
my  fate  so  as  pleases  thee  the  best." 

Then,  not  daring  to  trust  herself  longer,  for  she  felt 
the  tears  rushing  to  her  eyes,  she  turned  away  hastily, 
and  left  him  alone  beside  the  altar-stone  and  the  tomb. 


CHAPTER   Y. 

The  next  day,  as  Harold  was  entering  the  palace  of 
Westminster,  with  intent  to  seek  the  king's  lady,  his 
father  met  him  in  one  of  the  corridors,  and  taking  him 
gravely  by  the  hand,  said  — 

"  My  son,  I  have  mnch  on  my  mind  regarding  thee  and 
our  House;  come  with  me." 

"Nay,"  said  the  Earl,  "by  your  leave  let  it  be  later. 
For  I  have  it  on  hand  to  see  my  sister,  ere  confessor,  or 
monk,  or  schoolman,  claim  her  hours  ! " 


HAROLD.  201 

"Not  SO,  Harold,"  said  the  Earl,  briefly.  "My 
daughter  is  now  in  her  oratory,  and  we  shall  have  time 
enow  to  treat  of  things  mundane  ere  she  is  free  to  receive 
thee,  and  to  preach  to  thee  of  things  ghostly,  the  last 
miracle  at  St.  Alban's,  or  the  last  dream  of  the  king,  who 
would  be  a  great  man  and  a  stirring,  if  as  restless  when 
awake  as  he  is  in  his  sleep.     Come." 

Harold,  in  that  filial  obedience  which  belonged,  as  of 
course,  to  his  antique  cast  of  character,  made  no  farther 
effort  to  escape,  but  with  a  sigh  followed  Godwin  into 
one  of  the  contiguous  chambers. 

"Harold,"  then  said  Earl  Godwin,  after  closing  the 
door  carefully,  "thou  must  not  let  the  king  keep  thee 
longer  in  dalliance  and  idleness  :  thine  earldom  needs 
thee  without  delay.  Thou  knowest  that  these  East 
Angles,  as  we  Saxons  still  call  them,  are  in  truth  mostly 
Danes  and  Norsemen  ;  a  people  jealous  and  fierce,  and 
free,  and  more  akin  to  the  Normans  than  to  the  Saxons. 
My  whole  power  in  England  hath  been  founded,  not  less 
on  my  common  birth  with  the  freefolk  of  Wessex — Saxons 
like  myself,  and  therefore  easy  for  me,  a  Saxon,  to  con- 
ciliate and  control — than  on  the  hold  I  have  ever  sought 
to  establish,  whether  by  arms  or  by  arts,  over  the  Danes 
in  the  realm.  And  I  tell  and  I  warn  thee,  Harold,  as 
the  natural  heir  of  my  greatness,  that  he  who  cannot 
command  the  stout  hearts  of  the  Anglo-Danes,  will  never 
maintain  the  race  of  Godwin  in  the  post  they  have  won 
in  the  van-guard  of  Saxon  England." 

"  This  I  wot  well,  my  father,"  answered  Harold  ;  "  and 


20ii  HAROLD. 

I  see  with  joy,  that  while  those  descendants  of  heroes  and 
freemen  are  blended  indissolublj  with  the  meeker  Saxon, 
their  freer  laws  and  hardier  manners  are  gradually  sup- 
planting, or  rather  regenerating,  our  own." 

Godwin  smiled  approvingly  on  his  son,  and  then  his 
brow  becoming  serious,  and  the  dark  pupil  of  his  blue 
eye  dilating,  he  resumed : 

"  This  is  well,  my  son  ;  and  hast  thou  thought  also, 
that  while  thou  art  loitering  in  these  galleries,  amidst  the 
ghosts  of  men  in  monk  cowls,  Siward  is  shadowing  our 
House  with  his  glory,  and  all  north  the  Humber  rings 
with  his  name  ?  Hast  thou  thought  that  all  Mercia  is  in 
the  hands  of  Leofric  our  rival,  and  that  Algar  his  son, 
who  ruled  Wessex  in  my  absence,  left  there  a  name  so 
beloved,  that  had  I  stayed  a  year  longer,  the  cry  had 
been  'Algar 'not  'Godwin?'  —  for  so  is  the  multitude 
ever  !  Now  aid  rae,  Harold,  for  my  soul  is  troubled, 
and  I  cannot  work  alone  ;  and  though  I  say  nought  to 
others,  my  heart  received  a  death-blow  when  tears  fell 
from  its  blood-springs  on  the  brow  of  Sweyn,  my  first- 
born."    The  old  man  paused,  and  his  lip  quivered. 

"  Thou,  thou  alone,  Harold  .noble  boy,  thou  alone 
didst  stand  by  his  side  in  the  hall ;  alone,  alone,  and  I 
blessed  thee  in  that  hour  over  all  the  rest  of  my  sons. 
Well,  well !  now  to  earth  again.  Aid  me,  Harold.  I 
open  to  thee  my  web  :  complete  the  woof  w^hen  this  hand 
is  cold.  The  new  tree  that  stands  alone  in  the.  plain  is 
soon  nipped  by  the  winter ;  fenced  round  with  the  forest, 


HAROLD.  203 

its  youth  takes  shelter  from  its  fellows.*  So  is  it  with 
a  house  newly  founded  ;  it  must  win  strength  from  the 
allies  that  it  sets  round  its  slender  stem.  What  had 
been  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  had  he  not  married  into 
the  kingly  house  of  great  Canute  ?  It  is  this  that  gives 
my  sons  now  the  right  to  the  loyal  love  of  the  Danes. 
The  throne  passed  from  Canute  and  his  race,  and  the 
Saxons  again  had  their  hour ;  and  I  gave,  as  Jephtha 
gave  his  daughter,  my  blooming  Edith,  to  the  cold  bed 
of  the  Saxon  King.  Had  sons  sprung  from  that  union, 
the  grandson  of  Godwin,  royal  alike  from  Saxon  and 
Dane,  w^ould  reign  on  the  throne  of  the  isle.  Fate 
ordered  otherwise,  and  the  spider  must  weave  w^eb  anew. 
Thy  brother,  Tostig,  has  added  more  splendor  than  solid 
strength  to  our  line,  in  his  marriage  with  the  daughter 
of  Baldwin  the  Count.  The  foreigner  helps  us  little  in 
England.  Thou,  0  Harold,  must  bring  new  props  to 
the  House.  I  would  rather  see  thee  wed  to  the  child  of 
one  of  our  great  rivals  than  to  the  daughter  of  kaisar,  or 
outland  king.  Siward  hath  no  daughter  undisposed  of. 
Algar,  son  of  Leofric,  hath  a  daughter  fair  as  the  fairest ; 
make  her  thy  bride,  that  Algar  may  cease  to  be  a  foe. 
This  alliance  will  render  Mercia,  in  truth,  subject  to  our 
principalities,  since  the  stronger  must  quell  the  weaker. 
It  doth  more.  Algar  himself  has  married  into  the 
royalty  of  Wales. f     Thou  wilt  win  all  those  fierce  tribes 

*  Teigner's  Frilhiof. 

f  Some  of  the  chroniclers  say  that  he  married  the  daughter  of 
Grytfyth,  the  king  of  North  Wales,  but  Gryffjth  certaiulj  married 


204  HAROLD. 

to  thy  side.  Their  forces  will  gain  thee  the  marches, 
now  held  so  freely  under  Rolf  the  Norman,  and  in  case 
of  brief  reverse,  or  sharp  danger,  their  mountains  will 
give  refuge  from  all  foes.  This  day,  greeting  Algar,  he 
told  me  he  meditated  bestowing  his  daughter  on  Gryflfyth, 
the  rebel  under-King  of  North  Wales.  Therefore,"  con- 
tinued the  old  Earl,  with  a  smile,  "thou  must  speak  in 
time,  and  win  and  woo  in  the  same  breath.  No  hard 
task,  methinks,  for  Harold  of  the  golden  tongue." 

"  Sir,  and  father,"  replied  the  young  Earl,  whom  the 
long  speech  addressed  to  him  had  prepared  for  its  close, 
and  whose  habitual  self-control  saved  him  from  disclosing 
his  emotion,  "  I  thank  you  duteously,  for  your  care  for 
my  future,  and  hope  to  profit  by  your  wisdom.  I  will 
ask  the  king's  leave  to  go  to  my  East  Anglians,  and  hold 
there  a  folkmuth,  administer  justice,  redress  grievances, 
and  make  thegn  and  ceorl  content  with  Harold,  their 
earl.  But  vain  is  peace  in  the  realm,  if  there  is  strife  in 
the  house.  And  Aldyth,  the  daughter  of  Algar,  cannot 
be  house-wife  to  me." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  the  old  Earl,  calmly,  and  surveying 
his  son's  face,  with  those  eyes  so  clear  yet  so  unfathom- 
able. 

"  Because,  though  I  grant  her  fair,  she  pleases  not  my 
fancy,  nor  would  give  warmth  to  my  hearth.  Because, 
as  thou  knowest  well,  Algar  and  I  have  ever  been  op- 

Algar's  daughter,  and  that  double  alliance  could  not  have  been 
permitted.  It  was  probably,  therefore,  some  more  distant  kins- 
woman of  Gryffyth's  that  was  united  to  Algar. 


HAROLD.  205 

posed,  both  in  camp  and  in  council ;  and  I  am  not  the 

man  who  can  sell  mj  love,  though  I  may  stifle  my  anger. 
Earl  Harold  needs  no  bride  to  bring  spearmen  to  his 
back  at  his  need  ;  and  his  lordships  he  will  guard  with 
the  shield  of  a  man,  not  the  spindle  of  a  woman." 

"Said  in  spite  and  in  error,"  replied  the  old  Earl 
coolly.  "  Small  pain  had  it  given  thee  to  forgive  Algar 
old  quarrels,  and  clasp  his  hand  as  a  father-in-law  —  if 
thou  hadst  had  for  his  daughter  what  the  great  are  for- 
bidden to  regard  save  as  a  folly." 

"Is  love  a  folly,  my  father?" 

"Surely,  yes,"  said  the  Earl,  with  some  sadness  — 
"  surely,  yes,  for  those  who  know  that  life  is  made  up  of 
business  and  care,  spun  out  in  long  years,  not  counted  by 
the  joys  of  an  hour.  Surely,  yes  ;  thinkest  thou  that  I 
loved  my  first  wife,  the  proud  sister  of  Canute,  or  that 
Edith,  thy  sister,  loved  Edward,  when  he  placed  the 
crown  on  her  head  ?  " 

"  My  father,  in  Edith,  my  sister,  our  House  hath  sacri- 
ficed enow  to  selfish  power." 

"  I  grant  it,  to  selfish  power,"  answered  the  eloquent 
old  man,  "but  not  enow  for  England's  safety.  Look  to 
it,  Harold  ;  thy  years,  and  thy  fame,  and  thy  state,  place 
thee  free  from  my  control  as  a  father,  but  not  till  thou 
sleepest  in  thy  cerements  art  thou  free  from  that  father — 
thy  land  1  Ponder  it  in  thine  own  wise  mind  —  wiser 
already  than  that  which  speaks  to  it  under  the  hood  of 
grey  hairs.  Ponder  it,  and  ask  thyself  if  thy  power, 
when  I  am  dead,  is  not  necessary  to  the  weal  of  England ; 

I— 18 


206  HAROLD. 

and  if  aught  that  thy  schemes  can  suggest,  would  so 
strengthen  that  power,  as  to  find  in  the  heart  of  the  king- 
dom a  host  of  friends  like  the  Mercians ;  —  or  if  there 
could  be  a  trouble,  and  a  bar  to  thy  greatness,  a  wall  in 
thy  path,  or  a  thorn  in  thy  side,  like  the  hate  or  the 
jealousy  of  Algar,  the  son  of  Leofric  ? " 

Thus  addressed,  Harold's  face,  before  serene  and  calm, 
grew  overcast ;  and  he  felt  the  force  of  his  father's  words 
when  appealing  to  his  reason — not  to  his  affections.  The 
old  man  saw  the  advantage  he  had  gained,  and  prudently 
forbore  to  press  it.  Rising,  he  drew  round  him  his  sweep- 
ing gonna  lined  with  furs,  and  only  when  he  reached  the 
door,  he  added  :  — 

"The  old  see  afar;  they  stand  on  the  height  of  ex- 
perience, as  a  warder  on  the  crown  of  a  tower ;  and  I 
tell  thee,  Harold,  that  if  thou  let  slip  this  golden  occa- 
sion, years  hence — long  and  many — thou  wilt  rue  the  loss 
of  the  hour.  And  that,  unless  Mercia,  as  the  centre  of 
the  kingdom,  be  reconciled  to  thy  power,  thou  wilt  stand 
high  indeed — but  on  the  shelf  of  a  precipice.  And  if,  as 
I  suspect,  thou  lovest  some  other,  who  now  clouds  thy 
perception,  and  will  then  check  thy  ambition,  thou  wilt 
break  her  heart  with  thy  desertion,  or  gnaw  thine  own 
with  regret.  For  love  dies  in  possession  —  ambition  has 
no  fruition,  and  so  lives  for  ever." 

"  That  ambition  is  not  mine,  my  father,"  exclaimed 
Harold  earnestly  ;  "  I  have  not  thy  love  of  power,  glori- 
ous in  thee,  even  in  its  extremes.     I  have  not  thy " 

"  Seventy  years  !  "  interrupted  the  old  man,  concluding 


HAROLD.  207 

the  sentence.  "At  seventy,  all  men  who  have  been  great 
will  speak  as  I  do  ;  yet  all  will  have  known  love.  Thou 
not  ambitious,  Harold  ?  Thou  knowest  not  thyself,  nor 
knowest  thou  yet  what  ambition  is.  That  which  I  see 
far  before  me  as  thy  natural  prize,  I  dare  not,  or  I  will 
not  say.  When  time  sets  that  prize  within  reach  of  thy 
spear's  point,  say  then,  '  I  am  not  ambitious  ! '  Ponder 
and  decide." 

And  Harold  pondered  long,  and  decided  not  as  God- 
win could  have  wished.  For  he  had  not  the  seventy 
years  of  his  father,  and  the  prize  lay  yet  in  the  womb  of 
the  mountains ;  though  the  dwarf  and  the  gnome  were 
already  fashioning  the  ore  to  the  shape  of  a  crown. 


CHAPTER   TI. 

While  Harold  mused  over  his  father's  words,  Edith, 
seated  on  a  low  stool  beside  the  Lady  of  England,  listened 
with  earnest  but  mournful  reverence  to  her  royal  name- 
sake. 

The  queen's  *  closet  opened  like  the  king's,  on  one 
hand  to  an  oratory,  on  the  other  to  a  spacious  ante-room  ; 
the  lower  part  of  the  walls  was  covered  with  arras,  leav- 

*  The  title  of  queen  is  employed  in  these  pages,  as  one  which 
our  historians  have  unhesitatingly  given  to  the  consorts  of  our 
Saxon  kings;  but  the  usual  and  correct  designation  of  Edward'3 
royal  wife,  in  her  own  time,  would  be,  Edith  the  Lady. 


208  HAROLD. 

ing  space  for  a  niche  that  contained  an  image  of  the 
Yirgin.  Near  the  doorway  to  the  oratory,  was  the  stoupe 
or  aspersorium  for  holy-water  ;  and  in  various  cysts  and 
crypts,  in  either  room,  were  caskets  containing  the  relics 
of  saints.  The  purple  light  from  the  stained  glass  of  a 
high  narrow  window,  shaped  in  the  Saxon  arch,  streamed 
rich  and  full  over  the  queen's  bended  head  like  a  glory, 
and  tinged  her  pale  cheek,  as  with  a  maiden  blush ;  and 
she  might  have  furnished  a  sweet  model  for  early  artist, 
in  his  dreams  of  St.  Mary  the  Mother,  not  when,  young 
and  blest,  she  held  the  divine  Infant  in  her  arms,  but 
when  sorrow  had  reached  even  the  immaculate  bosom, 
and  the  stone  had  been  rolled  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
For  beautiful  the  face  still  was,  and  mild  beyond  all 
words ;  but,  beyond  all  words  also,  sad  in  its  tender  re- 
signation. 

And  thus  said  the  queen  to  her  godchild. 

"  Why  dost  thou  hesitate  and  turn  away  ?  Thinkest 
thou,  poor  child,  in  thine  ignorance  of  life,  that  the  world 
ever  can  give  thee  a  bliss  greater  than  the  calm  of  the 
cloister  ?  Pause,  and  ask  thyself,  young  as  thou  art,  if 
all  the  true  happiness  thou  hast  known  is  not  bounded 
to  hope.     As  long  as  thou  hopest,  thou  art  happy." 

Edith  sighed  deeply,  and  moved  her  young  head  in 
involuntary  acquiescence. 

"And  what  is  life  to  the  nun,  but  hope  ?  In  that  hope 
she  knows  not  the  present,  she  lives  in  the  future  ;  she 
hears  ever  singing  the  chorus  of  the  angels,  as  St.  Dun- 


HAROLD.  209 

stall  heard  them  sing  at  the  birth  of  Edgar.*  That  hope 
unfolds  to  her  the  heiligthum  of  the  future.  On  earth 
her  body,  in  heaven  her  soul  ! " 

"And  her  heart,  0  Lady  of  England  ?  "  cried  Edith, 
with  a  sharp  pang. 

The  queen  paused  a  moment,  and  laid  her  pale  hand 
kindly  on  Edith's  bosom. 

"  Xot  beating,  child,  as  thine  does  now,  with  vain 
thoughts,  and  worldly  desires  ;  but  calm,  calm  as  mine. 
It  is  in  our  power,"  resumed  the  queen,  after  a  second 
pause,  "  it  is  in  our  power  to  make  the  life  within  us  all 
soul,  so  that  the  heart  is  not,  or  is  felt  not ;  so  that  grief 
and  joy  have  no  power  over  us  ;  so  that  we  look  tranquil 
on  the  stormy  earth,  as  yon  image  of  the  Virgin,  whom 
we  make  our  example,  looks  from  the  silent  niche.  Listen, 
my  godchild  and  darling. 

"  I  have  known  human  state  and  human  debasement. 
In  these  halls  I  woke  Lady  of  England,  and  ere  sunset, 
my  husband  banished  me,  without  one  mark  of  honor, 
without  one  word  of  comfort,  to  the  convent  of  Wher- 
well ;  —  my  father,  my  mother,  my  kin,  all  in  exile  ;  and 
ray  tears  falling  fast  for  them,  but  not  on  a  husband's 
bosom." 

"Ah,  then,  noble  Edith,"  said  the  girl,  coloring  with 
anger  at  the  remembered  wrong  for  her  queen,  "  ah,  then, 
surely  at  least  thy  heart  made  itself  heard." 

"  Heard,  yea,  verily,"  said  the  queen,  looking  up,  and 

*  Ethel.  De.  Gen.  Reg.  Ang. 

IS*  o 


210  HAROLD. 

pressing  her  hands  ;  "  heard,  but  the  soul  rebuked  it. 
And  the  soul  said,  '  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  ; '  and 
I  rejoiced  at  the  new  trial  which  brought  me  nearer  to 
Hira  who  chastens  those  He  loves." 

"  But  thy  banished  kin  —  the  valiant,  the  wise  ;  they 
who  placed  thy  lord  on  the  throne  ? " 

"  Was  it  no  comfort,"  answered  the  queen,  simply,  "to 
think  that  in  the  House  of  God  my  prayers  for  them 
would  be  more  accepted  than  in  the  hall  of  kings  ?  Yes, 
my  child,  I  have  known  the  world's  honor,  and  the  world's 
disgrace,  and  I  have  schooled  my  heart  to  be  calm  in 
both." 

"Ah,  thou  art  above  human  strength,  Queen  and  Saint," 
exclaimed  Edith  ;  "  and  I  have  heard  it  said  of  thee,  that 
as  thou  art  now,  thou  wert  from  thine  earliest  years  ;  * 
ever  the  sweet,  the  calm,  the  holy  —  ever  less  on  earth 
than  in  heaven." 

Something  there  was  in  the  queen's  eyes,  as  she  raised 
them  towards  Edith  at  this  burst  of  enthusiasm,  that  gave 
for  a  moment,  to  a  face  otherwise  so  dissimilar,  the  like- 
ness to  her  father  ;  something,  in  that  large  pupil,  of  the 
impenetrable  unrevealing  depth  of  a  nature  close  and 
secret  in  self-control.  And  a  more  acute  observer  than 
Edith  might  long  have  been  perplexed  and  haunted  with 
tliat  look,  wondering,  if,  indeed,  under  the  divine  and 
spiritual  composure,  lurked  the  mystery  of  human  passion. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  queen,  with  the  faintest  smile 

*  AiLRET),  De  Vit.  Edward  Confess. 


HAROLD.  211 

upon  her  lips,  and  drawing  Edith  towards  her,  "  there 
are  moments,  when  all  that  breathe  the  breath  of  life 
feel,  or  have  felt,  alike.  In  my  vain  youth  I  read,  I  mused, 
I  pondered,  but  over  worldly  lore  ;  and  what  men  called 
the  sanctity  of  virtue,  was,  perhaps,  but  the  silence  of 
thought.  Xow  I  have  put  aside  those  early  and  childish 
dreams  and  shadows,  remembering  them  not,  save  (here 
the  smile  grew  more  pronounced)  to  puzzle  some  poor 
school-boy  with  the  knots  and  riddles  of  the  sharp  gram- 
marian :  *  but  not  to  speak  of  myself  have  I  sent  for 
thee.  Edith,  again  and  again,  solemnly  and  sincerely,  I 
pray  thee  to  obey  the  wish  of  my  lord  the  king.  And 
now,  while  yet  in  all  the  bloom  of  thought,  as  of  youth, 
while  thou  hast  no  memory  save  the  child's,  enter  on  the 
Realm  of  Peace." 

"  I  cannot,  I  dare  not,  I  cannot — ah,  ask  me  not,"  said 
poor  Edith,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Those  hands  the  queen  gently  withdrew ;  and  looking 
steadfastly  in  the  changeful  and  half-averted  face,  she 
said  mournfully,  "  Is  it  so,  my  godchild  ?  and  is  thy  heart 
set  oh  the  hopes  of  earth  —  thy  dreams  on  the  love  of 


man 


?" 


"  Nay,"  answered  Edith,  equivocating  ;  "  but  I  have 
promised  not  to  take  the  veil." 

"  Promised  to  Hilda  !  " 

"  Hilda,"  exclaimed  Edith  readily,  "  would  never  con- 
sent to  it.  Thou  knowest  her  strong  nature,  her  distaste 
to —  to " 


*  Ingulfus. 


212  HAROLD. 

"  The  laws  of  our  holy  Church  —  I  do  ;  and  for  that 
reason  it  is,  mainly,  that  I  join  with  the  King  in  seeking 
to  abstract  thee  from  her  influence  :  but  it  is  not  Hilda 
that  thou  hast  promised?" 

Edith  hung  her  head. 

"  Is  it  to  woman  or  to  man  ? " 

Before  Edith  could  answer,  the  door  from  the  ante- 
room opened  gently,  but  without  the  usual  ceremony, 
and  Harold  entered.  His  quick,  quiet  eye,  embraced 
both  forms,  and  curbed  Edith's  young  impulse,  which 
made  her  start  from  her  seat,  and  advance  joyously  to- 
wards him  as  a  protector. 

"  Fair  day  to  thee,  my  sister,"  said  the  earl,  advancing  ; 
"  and  pardon,  if  I  break  thus  rudely  on  thy  leisure  ;  for 
few  are  the  moments  when  beggar  and  Benedictine  leave 
thee  free  to  receive  thy  brother." 

"Dost  thou  reproach  me,  Harold?" 

"  No,  Heaven  forfend  !  "  replied  the  earl,  cordially,  and 
with  a  look  at  once  of  pity  and  admiration;  "for  thou 
art  one  of  the  few,  in  this  court  of  simulators,  sincere 
and  true  ;  and  it  pleases  thee  to  serve  the  Divine  Power 
in  thy  way,  as  it  pleases  me  to  serve  Him  in  mine." 

"  Thine,  Harold  ?  "  said  the  queen,  shaking  her  head, 
but  with  a  look  of  some  human  pride  and  fondness  in  her 
fair  face. 

"  Mine  :  as  I  learned  it  from  thee  when  I  was  thy  pupil, 
Edith;  when  to  those  studies  in  which  thou  didst  precede 
me,  thou  first  didst  lure  me  from  sport  and  pastime ;  and 
from  thee  I  learned  to  glow  over  the  deeds  of  Greek  and' 


HAROLD.  213 

Roman,  and  say,  *  They  lived  and  died  as  men  ;  like  them 
may  I  live  and  die  ! '  " 

"Oh,  true  —  too  true!"  said  the  queen,  with  a  sigh; 
"  and  I  am  to  blame  grievously  that  I  did  so  pervert  to 
earth  a  mind  that  might  otherwise  have  learned  holier 
examples; — nay,  smile  not  with  that  hr  jghty  lip,  my 
brother ;  for,  believe  me — yea,  believe  me — there  is  more 
true  valor  in  the  life  of  one  patient  martyr  than  in  the 
victories  of  Caesar,  or  even  the  defeat  of  Brutus." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  earl,  "but  out  of  the  same 
oak  we  carve  the  spear  and  the  cross ;  and  those  not 
worthy  to  hold  the  one,  may  yet  not  guiltily  wield  the 
other.  Each  to  his  path  of  life  —  and  mine  is  chosen." 
Then,  changing  his  voice,  with  some  abruptness,  he  said : 
"  But  what  hast  thou  been  saying  to  thy  fair  godchild, 
that  her  cheek  is  pale,  and  her  eyelids  seem  so  heavy  ? 
Edith,  Edith,  my  sister,  beware  how  thou  shapest  the  lot 
of  the  martyr  without  the  peace  of  the  saint.  Had 
Algive  the  nun  been  wedded  to  Sweyn  our  brother,  Sweyn 
were  not  wending,  barefooted  and  forlorn,  to  lay  the 
wrecks  of  desolated  life  at  the  Holy  Tomb." 

"  Harold,  Harold  ! "  faltered  the  queen,  much  struck 
with  his  words. 

"But,"  the  earl  continued  —  and  something  of  the 
pathos  which  belongs  to  deep  emotion  vibrated  in  the 
eloquent  voice,  accustomed  to  command  and  persuade  — 
"  we  strip  not  the  green  leaves  for  our  yule-hearths  — 
we  gather  them  up  when  dry  and  sere.  Leave  youth 
on  the  bough  —  let  the  bird  sing  to  it  —  let  it  play  free 


214  HAROLD. 

ill  the  airs  of  heaven.  Smoke  comes  from  the  branch 
which,  cut  in  tlie  sap,  is  cast  upon  the  fire,  and  regret 
from  the  heart  which  is  severed  from  the  world  while  the 
world  is  in  its  May." 

The  queen  paced  slowly,  but  in  evident  agitation,  to 
and  fro  the  room,  and  her  hands  clasped  convulsively  the 
rosary  round  her  neck ;  then,  after  a  pause  of  thought, 
she  motioned  to  Edith,  and,  pointing  to  the  oratory,  said, 
with  forced  composure,  "  Enter  there,  and  there  kneel ; 
commune  with  thyself,  and  be  still.  Ask  for  a  sign  from 
above  —  pray  for  the  grace  within.  Go  ;  I  would  speak 
alone  with  Harold." 

Edith  crossed  her  arms  on  her  bosom  meekly,  and 
passed  into  the  oratory.  The  queen  watched  her  for  a 
few  moments,  tenderly,  as  the  slight,  child-like  form 
bent  before  the  sacred  symbol.  Then  she  closed  the 
door  gently,  and  coming  with  a  quick  step  to  Harold, 
said,  in  a  low,  but  clear  voice,  "Dost  thou  love  the 
maiden  ?" 

"Sister,"  answered  the  earl,  sadly,  "  I  love  her  as  a 
man  should  love  woman  —  more  than  my  life,  but  less 
than  the  ends  life  lives  for." 

"  Oh,  world,  world,  world  I "  cried  the  queen,  passion- 
ately, "  not  even  to  thine  own  objects  art  thou  true.  O 
world  !  0  world  I  thou  desirest  happiness  below,  and  at 
every  turn,  with  every  vanity,  thou  tramplest  happiness 
under  foot!  Yes,  yes -^  they  said  to  me,  'For  the  sake 
of  our  greatness,  thou  shalt  wed  King  Edward.-  And  I 
live  in  the  eyes  that  loathe  me  —  and  —  and "     The 


HAROLD.  215 

queen,  as  if  conscience-stricken,  paused  aghast,  kissed 
devoutly  the  relic  suspended  to  her  rosary,  and  continued, 
with  such  calmness,  that  it  seemed  as  if  two  women  were 
blent  in  one,  so  startling  was  the  contrast.  "And  I  have 
had  my  reward,  but  not  from  the  world  !  Even  so,  Harold 
the  Earl,  and  Earl's  son,  thou  lovest  yon  fair  child,  and 
she  thee  ;  and  ye  might  be  happy,  if  happiness  were 
earth's  end  ;  but,  though  high-born,  and  of  fair  temporal 
possessions,  she  brings  thee  not  lands  broad  enough  for 
her  dowry,  nor  troops  of  kindred  to  swell  thy  lithsmen, 
and  she  is  not  a  mark-stone  in  thy  march  to  ambition  : 
and  so  thou  lovest  her  as  man  loves  woman  —  'less  than 
the  en.ds  life  lives  for  ! '  " 

"Sister,"  said  Harold,  "thou  speakest  as  I  love  to 
hear  thee  speak  —  as  ray  bright-eyed,  rose-lipped  sister 
spoke  in  the  days  of  old ;  thou  speakest  as  a  woman  with  a 
warm  heart,  and  not  as  the  mummy  in  the  stiff  cerements 
of  priestly  form  ;  and  if  thou  art  with  me,  and  thou  wilt 
give  me  countenance,  I  will  marry  thy  godchild,  and  save 
her  alike  from  the  dire  superstitions  of  Hilda,  and  the 
grave  of  the  abhorrent  convent." 

"But  my  father  —  my  father  !  "  cried  the  queen  ;  "  who 
ever  bended  that  soul  of  steel  ?"- 

"  It  is  not  my  father  I  fear ;  it  is  thee  and  thy  monks. 
Forgettest  thou  that  Edith  and  I  are  within  the  six- 
banned  degrees  of  the  Church  ?  " 

"  True,  most  true,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  look  of 
great   terror;    "I   had    forgotten.     Avaunt,    the    very 


216  HAROLD. 

thought!  Pray  —  fast  —  banish  it  —  my  poor,  poor 
brother  ! "  and  she  kissed  his  brow. 

''  So,  there  fades  the  woman,  and  the  mummy  speaks 
again  !  "  said  Harold,  bitterly.  "  Be  it  so  ;  I  bow  to  my 
doom.  Well,  there  may  be  a  time,  when  Nature,  on  the 
throne  of  England,  shall  prevail  over  Priestcraft ;  and, 
in  guerdon  for  all  my  services,  I  will  then  ask  a  king  who 
hath  blood  in  his  veins,  to  win  me  the  Pope's  pardon  and 
benison.  Leave  me  that  hope,  my  sister,  and  leave  thy 
godchild  on  the  shores  of  the  living  world." 

The  queen  made  no  answer ;  and  Harold,  auguring  ill 
from  her  silence,  moved  on  and  opened  the  door  of  the 
oratory.  But  the  image  that  there  met  him,  that  figure 
still  kneeling,  those  eyes,  so  earnest  in  the  tears  that 
streamed  from  them  fast  and  unheeded,  fixed  on  the  holy 
rood — awed  his  step  and  checked  his  voice.  Nor  till  the 
girl  had  risen,  did  he  break  silence ;  then  he  said,  gently, 
"My  sister  will  press  thee  no  more,  Edith — " 

"  I  say  not  that ! "  exclaimed  the  queen. 

"  Or  if  she  doth,  remember  thy  plighted  promise  under 
the  wide  cope  of  blue  heaven,  the  old  nor  least  holy 
temple  of  our  common  Father  ! " 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room. 


HAROLD.  217 


CHAPTER  YII. 

Harold  passed  into  the  queen's  ante-chamber.  Here 
the  attendance  was  small  and  select  compared  with  the 
crowds  which  we  shall  see  presently  in  the  ante-room  to 
the  king's  closet :  for  here  came  chiefly  the  more  learned 
ecclesiastics,  attracted  instinctively  by  the  queen's  own 
mental  culture,  and  few  indeed  were  they  at  that  day 
(perhaps  the  most  illiterate  known  in  England  since  the 
death  of  Alfred  ;  *)  and  here  came  not  the  tribe  of  im- 
postors, and  the  relic-venders,  whom  the  infantine  sim- 
plicity and  lavish  waste  of  the  Confessor  attracted.  Some 
four  or  five  priests  and  monks,  some  lonely  widow,  some 
orphan  child,  humble  worth,  or  unprotected  sorrow,  made 
the  noiseless  levee  of  the  sweet  sad  queen. 

The  groups  turned,  with  patient  eyes,  towards  the  earl 
as  he  emerged  from  that  chamber,  which  it  was  rare  in- 
deed to  quit  unconsoled,  and  marvelled  at  the  flush  in 
his  cheek,  and  the  disquiet  on  his  brow ;  but  Harold  was 
dear  to  the  clients  of  his  sister ;  for,  despite  his  supposed 
indifference  to  the  mere  priestly  virtues  (if  virtues  we  call 

*  The  clergy  (says  Malmesbury),  contented  with  a  very  slight 
share  of  learning,  could  scarcely  stammer  out  the  words  of  the 
sacraments ;  and  a  person  who  understood  grammar  was  an  object 
of  wonder  and  astonishment.  Other  authorities  likely  to  be  im- 
partial, speak  quite  as  strongly  as  to  the  prevalent  ignorance  of 
the  time. 

I.  — 19 


218  HAROLD. 

them)  of  the  decrepit  time,  his  intellect  was  respected  by 
yon  learned  ecclesiastics ;  and  his  character,  as  the  foe 
of  all  injustice,  and  the  fosterer  of  all  that  were  desolate, 
was  known  to  yon  pale-eyed  widow,  and  yon  trembling 
orphan. 

In  the  atmosphere  of  that  quiet  assembly,  the  earl 
seemed  to  recover  his  kindly  temperament,  and  he  paused 
to  address  a  friendly  or  a  soothing  word  to  each  ;  so  that 
when  he  vanished,  the  hearts  there  felt  more  light ;  and 
the  silence,  hushed  before  his  entrance,  was  broken  by 
many  whispers  in  praise  of  the  good  earl. 

Descending  a  staircase  without  the  walls  —  as  even  in 
royal  halls  the  principal  staircases  were  then  —  Harold 
gained  a  wide  court,  in  which  loitered  several  house 
carles,*  and  attendants,  whether  of  the  king  or  the 
visitors  ;  and  reaching  the  entrance  of  the  palace,  took 
his  way  towards  the  king's  rooms,  which  lay  near,  and 
round,  what  is  now  called  "  The  Painted  Chamber," 
then  used  as  a  bed-room  by  Edward  on  state  occasions. 

And  now  he  entered  the  ante-chamber  of  his  royal 
brother-in-law.  Crowded  it  was,  but  rather  seemed  it 
the  hall  of  a  convent  than  the  ante-room  of  a  king. 
Monks,  pilgrims,  priests,  met  his  eyes  in  every  nook  ;  and 
not  there  did  the  earl  pause  to  practise  the  arts  of  popular 

*  House  carles  in  the  royal  court  were  the  body-guard,  mostly, 
if  not  all,  of  Danish  origin.  They  appear  to  have  been  first  formed, 
or  at  least  employed,  in  that  capacity  by  Canute.  "With  the  great 
earls,  the  house  carles  probably  exerci^^ed  the  same  functions,  but 
in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word  in  families  of  lower  rank, 
house  carle  was  a  domestic  servant. 


HAROLD.  2 1'J 

favor.  Passing  erect  through  the  midst,  he  beckoned 
forth  the  officer,  in  attendance  at  the  extreme  end,  who, 
after  an  interchange  of  whispers,  ushered  him  into  the 
royal  presence.  The  monks  and  the  priests,  gazing  to- 
wards the  door  which  had  closed  on  his  stately  form,  said 
to  each  other : — 

"  The  king's  Norman  favorites  at  least  honored  the 
Church." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  an  abbot ;  "  and  an'  it  were  not 
for  two  things,  I  should  love  the  Norman  better  than  the 
Saxon." 

"  What  are  they,  my  father  ?''  asked  an  aspiring  young 
monk. 

"Inprinis,^^  quoth  the  abbot,  proud  of  the  one  Latin 
word  he  thought  he  knew,  but  that,  as  we  see,  was  an 
error;  "they  cannot  speak  so  as  to  be  understood,  and  I 
fear  me  much  they  incline  to  mere  carnal  learning." 

Here  there  was  a  sanctified  groan  :  — 

•'  Count  William  himself  spoke  to  me  in  Latin  !  "  con- 
tinued the  abbot,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"Did  he?  —  Wonderful!"  exclaimed  several  voices. 
"And  what  did  you  answer,  holy  father?'? 

"Marry,"  said  the  abbot,  solemnly,  "I  replied,  '/??- 
prinis.^^^ 

"  Good  ! "  said  the  young  monk,  with  a  look  of  pro- 
found admiration. 

"  Whereat  the  good  Count  looked  puzzled — as  I  meant 
him  to  be :  —  a  heinous  fault,  and  one  intolerant  to  the 
clergy,  that  love  of   profane    tongues  !     And    the  next 


220  HAROLD. 

thing  against  your  Norman  is  (added  the  abbot,  with  a 
sly  wink),  that  he  is  a  close  man,  who  loves  not  his 
stoup  :  now,  I  say,  that  a  priest  never  had  more  hold 
over  a  sinner  than  when  he  makes  the  sinner  open  his 
heart  to  him." 

"  That's  clear  1 "  said  a  fat  priest,  with  a  lubricate  and 
shining  nose. 

"And  how,"  pursued  the  abbot  triumphantly,  "can  a 
sinner  open  his  heavy  heart  until  you  have  given  him 
something  to  lighten  it  ?  Oh,  many  and  many  a  wretched 
man  have  I  comforted  spiritually  over  a  flagon  of  stout 
ale  !  and  many  a  good  legacy  to  the  Church  hath  come 
out  of  a  friendly  wassail  between  watchful  shepherd  and 
strayed  sheep  !  But  what  hast  thou  there  ? "  resumed 
the  abbot,  turning  to  a  man,  clad  in  the  lay  garb  of  a 
burgess  of  London,  who  h^d  just  entered  the  room, 
followed  by  a  youth  bearing  what  seemed  a  cofTer,  covered 
with  a  fine  linen  cloth. 

*'  Holy  father  I  "  said  the  burgess,  wiping  his  forehead, 
"  it  is  a  treasure  so  great,  that  I  trow  Hugoline,  the 
king's  treasurer,  will  scowl  at  me  for  a  year  to  come,  for 
he  likes  to  keep  his  own  grip  on  the  king's  gold  ! " 

At  this  indiscreet  observation,  the  abbot,  the  monks, 
and  all  the  priestly  by-standers,  looked  grim  and  gloomy, 
for  each  had  his  own  special  design  upon  the  peace  of 
poor  Hugoline,  the  treasurer,  and  liked  not  to  see  him 
the  prey  of  a  layman. 

^'Inprinis/^^  quoth  the  abbot,  puffing  out  the  word 
with  great  scorn  ;  "thinkest  thou,  son  of  Mammon,  that 


HAROLD.  221 

our  good  king  sets  his  pious  heart  On  gewgaws,  and 
gems,  and  such  vanities  ?  Thou  shouldst  take  the  goods 
to  Count  Baldwin  of  Flanders ;  or  Tostig,  the  proud 
earl's  proud  son.'' 

"Marry!"  said  the  cheapman,  with  a  smile;  "  my 
treasure  will  find  small  price  with  Baldwin  the  scoffer, 
and  Tostig  the  vain  !  Xor  need  ye  look  at  me  so  sternly, 
my  fathers ;  but  rather  vie  with  each  other  who  shall  win 
this  wonder  of  wonders  for  his  own  convent ;  know,  in  a 
word,  that  it  is  the  right  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  which  a 
worthy  man  bought  at  Rome  for  me,  for  3,000  lb.  weight 
of  silver ;  and  I  ask  but  500  lb.  over  the  purchase  for  my 
pains  and  my  fee."  * 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  abbot. 

"  Humph  ! "  said  the  aspiring  young  monk  :  the  rest 
gathered  wistfully  round  the  linen  cloth. 

A  fiery  exclamation  of  wrath  and  disdain  was  here 
heard  :  and  all  turning,  saw  a  tall,  fierce-looking  thegn, 
who  had  found  his  way  into  that  group,  like  a  hawk  in  a 
rookery. 

"Dost  thou  tell. me,  knave,"  quoth  the  thegn,  in  a 
dialect  that  bespoke  him  a  Dane  by  origin,  with  the 
broad  burr  still  retained  in  the  north;  "Dost  thou  tell 
me  that  the  king  will  waste  liis  gold  on  such  fooleries, 
while  the  fort  built  by  Canute  at  the  flood  of  the  Humber 

*  This  -was  cheap,  for  x^gelnoth,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  gave 
the  Pope  6,000  lb.  weight  of  silver  for  the  arm  of  St.  Augustine. — 
Malmf.sbury. 

19* 


222  HAROLD. 

is  all  fallen  into  ruin,  without  a  man  in  steel  jacket  to 
keep  watch  on  the  war  fleets  of  Swede  and  Norwegian  ?  " 

"Worshipful  minister,"  replied  the  cheapraan,  with 
some  slight  irony  in  his  tone  ;  "  these  reverend  fathers 
will  tell  thee  that  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  is  far  better  aid 
against  Swede  and  Norwegian  than  forts  of  stone  and 
jackets  of  steel :  nathless,  if  thou  wantest  jackets  of  steel, 
I  have  some  to  sell  at  a  fair  price,  of  the  last  fashion, 
and  helms  with  long  nose-pieces,  as  are  worn  by  the 
Normans."  < 

"  The  thumb  of  a  withered  old  saint,"  cried  the  Dane, 
not  heeding  the  last  words,  "more  defence  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Humber  than  crenellated  castles,  and  mailed  men  !  " 

"  Surely,  naught  son,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  shocked, 
and  taking  part  with  the  cheapman.  "  Dost  thou  not 
remember  that,  in  the  pious  and  famous  council  of  1014, 
it  was  decreed  to  put  aside  all  weapons  of  flesh  against 
thy  heathen  countrymen,  and  depend  alone  on  St.  Michael 
to  fight  for  us  ?  Thinkest  thou  that  the  saint  would  ever 
suffer  his  holy  thumb  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Gen-, 
tiles  ?  —  never  !  Go  to,  thou  art  not  fit  to  have  conduct 
of  the  king's  wars.  Go  to,  and  repent,  my  son,  or  the 
king  shall  hear  of  it." 

"  Ah,  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing  I  "  muttered  the  Dane, 
turning  on  his  heel ;  "if  thy  monastery  were  but  built  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Humber  ! " 

The  cheapman  heard  him,  and  smiled.  While  such 
the  scene  in  the  ante-room,  we  follow  Harold  into  the 
king's  presence. 


HAROLD.  223 

On  entering,  he  found  there  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life, 
and,  though  richly  clad,  in  embroidered  gonna,  and  with 
gilt  ateghar  at  his  side,  still  with  the  loose  robe,  the 
long  moustache,  and  the  skin  of  the  throat  and  right 
hand  punctured  with  characters  and  devices,  which  proved 
his  adherence  to  the  fashions  of  the  Saxon.*  And 
Harold's  eye  sparkled,  for  in  this  guest  he  recognized  the 
father  of  Aldyth,  Earl  Algar,  son  of  Leofric.  The  two 
nobles  exchanged  grave  salutations,  and  each  eyed  the 
other  wistfully. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  was  striking.  The 
Danish  race  were  men  generally  of  larger  frame  and 
grander  mould  than  the  Saxon  ;  f  and  though  in  all  else, 
as  to  exterior,  Harold  was  eminently  Saxon,  yet  in 
common  with  his  brothers,  he  took  from  the  mother's 
side  the  lofty  air  and  iron  frame  of  the  old  kings  of  the 
sea.  But  Algar,  below  the  middle  height,  though  well 
set,  was  slight  in  comparison  with  Harold.  His  strength 
was  that  which  men  often  take  rather  from  the  nerve  than 
the  muscle  :  a  strength  that  belongs  to  quick  tempers  and 
restless  energies.    His  light-blue  eye  singularly  vivid  and 

*  William  of  Malmesbury  says,  that  the  English,  at  the  time  of 
the  Conquest,  loaded  their  arms  with  gold  bracelets,  and  adorned 
their  skins  with  punctured  designs,  i.  e.  a  sort  of  tattooing.  He 
says  that  they  then  wore  short  garments,  reaching  to  the  mid-knee ; 
but  that  was  a  Norman  fashion,  and  the  loose  robes  assigned  in  the 
text  to  Algar,  were  the  old  Saxon  fashion,  which  made  but  little 
distinction  between  the  dress  of  women  and  that  of  men. 

f  And  in  England,  to  this  day,  the  descendants  of  the  Anglo- 
Danes,  in  Cumberland  and  Yorkshire,  are  still  a  taller  and  bonier 
race  than  those  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  in  Surrey  and  Sussex. 


224  HAROLD. 

glittering- ;  his  quivering  lip  ;  tlie  veins  swelling  at  each 
emotion,  on  the  fair  white  temples ;  the  long  yellow  hair, 
bright  as  gold,  and  resisting  in  its  easy  curls,  all  attempts 
to  curb  it  into  the  smooth  flow  most  in  fashion  ;  the 
nervous  movements  of  the  gesture  ;  the  somewhat  sharp 
and  hasty  tones  of  the  voice ;  all  opposed,  as  much  as  if 
the  two  men  were  of  different  races,  the  steady  deep  eyes 
of  Harold,  his  composed  mien,  sweet  and  majestic,  his 
decorous  locks  parted  on  the  king-like  front,  with  their 
large  single  curl,  where  they  touched  the  shoulder.  In- 
telligence and  will  were  apparent  in  both  the  men  ;  but 
the  intelligence  of  one  was  acute  and  rapid,  that  of  the 
other  profound  and  steadfast ;  the  will  of  one  broke  in 
flashes  of  lightning,  that  of  the  other  was  calm  as  the 
summer  sun  at  neon. 

"  Thou  art  welcome,  Harold,"  said  the  king,  with  less 
than  his  usual  listlessness,  and  with  a  look  of  relief,  as 
the  earl  approached  him. 

"  Our  good  Algar  comes  to  us  with  a  suit  well  worthy 
consideration,  though  pressed  somewhat  hotly,  and 
evincing  too  great  a  desire  for  goods  worldly  ;  contrast- 
ing in  this  his  most  laudable  father,  our  well-beloved 
Leofric,  who  spends  his  substance  in  endowing  monas- 
teries, and  dispensing  alms ;  wherefor  he  shall  receive  a 
hundred-fold  in  the  treasure-house  above." 

"  A  good  interest,  doubtless,  my  lord  the  king,"  said 
Algar,  quickly,  "  but  one  that  is  not  paid  to  his  heirs ; 
and  the  more  need,  if  my  father  (whom  I  blame  not  for 
doing  as  he  lists  with  his  own)  gives  all  ho  liath  1o  the 


HAROLD.  2*25 

monks — the  more  need,  I  say,  to  take  care  that  his  son 
shall  be  enabled  to  follow  his  example.  As  it  is,  most 
noble  king,  I  fear  me  that  Algar,  son  of  Leofric,  will  have 
nothing  to  give.  In  brief.  Earl  Harold,''  continued 
Algar,  turning  to  his  fellow  thegn  —  "in  brief,  thus 
stands  the  matter.  When  our  lord  the  king  was  first 
graciously  pleased  to  consent  to  rule  in  England,  the  two 
chiefs  who  most  assured  his  throne  were  thy  father  and 
mine  :  often  foes,  they  laid  aside  feud  and  jealousy  for  the 
sake  of  the  Saxon  line.  Now,  since  then,  thy  father  hath 
strung  earldom  to  earldom,  like  links  in  a  coat-mail. 
And,  save  Northumbria  and  Mercia,  well-nigh  all  Eng- 
land falls  to  him  and  his  sons  ;  whereas  my  father  remains 
what  he  was,  and  my  father's  son  stands  landless  and 
penceless.  In  thine  absence  the  king  was  graciously 
pleased  to  bestow  on  me  thy  father's  earldom  ;  men  say 
that  I  ruled  it  well.  Thy  father  returns,  and  though 
(here  Algar's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  his  hand  involuntarily 
rested  on  his  ateghar),  I  could  have  held  it,  methinks,  by 
the  strong  hand,  I  gave  it  up  at  my  father's  prayer,  and 
the  king's  hest,  with  a  free  heart.  Now,  therefore,  I 
come  to  my  lord,  and  I  ask,  'What  lands  and  what  lord- 
ships canst  thou  spare  in  broad  England  to  Algar,  once 
Earl  of  Wessex,  and  son  to  the  Leofric  whose  hand 
smoothed  the  way  to  thy  throne  ?'  My  lord  the  king  is 
pleased  to  preach  to  me  contempt  of  the  world  ;  thou 
dost  not  despise  the  world,  Earl  of  the  East  Angles, — 
what  sayest  thou  to  the  heir  of  Leofric  ? " 

p 

4k 


226  HAROLD. 

"  That  thy  suit  is  just,''  answered  Harold,  calmly,  "  but 
urged  with  small  reverence." 

Earl  Algar  bounded  like  a  stag  that  the  arrow  hath 
startled. 

"  It  becomes  thee,  who  hast  backed  thy  suits  with  war- 
ships and  mail,  to  talk  of  reverence,  and  rebuke  one 
whose  fathers  reigned  over  earldoms,*  when  thine  were, 
no  doubt,  ceorls  at  the  plough.  But  for  Edric's  Streone, 
the  traitor  and  low-born,  what  had  been  Walnoth,  thy 
grand  sire  ?  " 

So  rude  and  home  an  assault  in  the  presence  of  the 
king,  who,  though  personally  he  loved  Harold  in  his 
lukewarm  way,  yet,  like  all  weak  men,  was  not  displeased 
to  see  the  strong  split  their  strength  against  each  other, 
brought  the  blood  into  Harold's  cheek  ;  but  he  answered 
calmly :  — 

"We  live  in  a  land,  son  of  Leofric,  in  which  birth, 
though  not  disesteemed,  gives  of  itself  no  power  in  coun- 
cil or  camp.    We  belong  to  a  land  where  men  are  valued 

*Very  few  of  the  greater  Saxon  nobles  could  pretend  to  a 
lengthened  succession  in  their  demesnes.  The  wars  with  the  Danes, 
the  many  revolutions  which  threw  new  families  uppermost,  the  con- 
fiscations and  banishments,  and  the  invariable  rule  of  rejecting  the 
heir,  if  not  of  mature  years  at  his  father's  death,  caused  rapid 
changes  of  dynasty  in  the  several  earldoms ;  but  the  family  of 
Leofric  had  just  claims  to  a  very  rare  antiquity  in  their  Mercian 
lordship.  Leofric  was  the  sixth  earl  of  Chester  and  Coventry,  in 
lineal  descent  from  his  namesake  Leofric  L  ;  he  extended  the 
supremacy  of  his  hereditary  lordship  over  all  Mercia.  See  Deo- 
DALE,  Monasf.  vol.  iii,  p.  102 ;  and  Palgravk's  Commonicealth, 
Proofs  and  llluitradons,  p.  291. 


HAROLD.  221 

for  what  they  are,  not  for  what  their  dead  ancestors 
might  have  been.  So  has  it  been  for  ages  in  Saxon  Eng- 
land, where  mv  fathers,  through  Godwin,  as  thou  sayest, 
might  have  been  ceorls  ;  and  so,  I  have  heard,  it  is  in  the 
laud  of  the  martial  Danes,  where  my  fathers,  through 
Githa,  reigned  on  the  thrones  of  the  North." 

"Thou  dost  well,''  said  Algar,  gnawing  his  lip,  "to 
shelter  thyself  on  the  spindle  side,  but  we  Saxons  of  pure 
descent  think  little  of  your  kings  of  the  North,  pirates 
and  idolators,  and  eaters  of  horse-flesh  ;  but  enjoy  what 
thou  hast,  and  let  Algar  have  his  due." 

"It  is  for  the  king,  not  his  servant,  to  answer  the 
prayer  of  Algar,"  said  Harold,  withdrawing  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  room. 

Algar's  eye  followed  him,  and  observing  that  the  king 
was  fast  sinking  into  one  of  the  fits  of  religious  reverie 
in  which  he  sought  to  be  inspired  with  a  decision,  when- 
ever his  mind  was  perplexed,  he  moved  with  a  light  step 
to  Harold,  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  whispered, — 

"We  do  ill  to  quarrel  with  each  other  —  I  repent  me 
of  hot  words  : — enough.  Thy  father  is  a  wise  man,  and 
sees  far  —  thy  father  would  have  us  friends.  Be  it  so. 
Hearken  :  my  daughter  Aldyth  is  esteemed  not  the  least 
fair  of  the  maidens  in  England  ;  I  will  give  her  to  thee 
as  thy  wife,  and  as  thy  morgen  gift,  thou  shalt  win  for 
me  from  the  king  the  earldom  forfeited  by  thy  brother 
Sweyu,  now  parcelled  out  among  sub-earls  and  thegns — 
easy  enow  to  control.  By  the  shrine  of  St.  Alban,  dost 
thou  hesitate,  man  ?" 


228  HAROLD. 

"  No,  not  an  instant,"  said  Harold,  stung  to  the  quick. 
"Not,  couldst  thou  offer  me  all  Mercia  as  her  dower, 
would  I  wed  the  daughter  of  Algar ;  and  bend  my  knee 
as  a  son  to  a  wife's  father,  to  the  man  who  despises  my 
lineage,  while  he  truckles  to  my  power." 

Algar's  face  grew  convulsed  with  rage  ;  but  without 
saying  a  word  to  the  earl  he  strode  back  to  Edward,  who 
now  with  vacant  eyes  looked  up  from  the  rosary  over 
which  he  had  been  bending,  and  said  abruptly  — 

"  My  lord  the  king,  I  have  spoken  as  I  think  it  be- 
comes a  man  who  knows  his  own  claims,  and  believes  in 
the  gratitude  of  princes.  Three  days  will  I  tarry  in 
London  for  your  gracious  answer ;  on  the  fourth,  I  de- 
part. May  the  saints  guard  your  throne,  and  bring 
around  it  its  best  defence,  the  thegn-born  satraps  whose 
fathers  fought  with  Alfred  and  Athelstan.  All  went 
well  with  merrie  England  till  the  hoof  of  the  Dane  king 
broke  the  soil,  and  mushrooms  sprung  up  where  the  oak- 
trees  fell." 

When  the  son  of  Leofric  had  left  the  chamber,  the 
king  rose  wearily,  and  said  in  Norman-French,  to  which 
language  he  always  yearningly  returned,  "when  with  those 
who  could  speak  it, — 

"  Beau  frlre  and  hien  ainU,  in  what  trifles  must  a  king 
pass  his  life  !  And,  all  this  while,  matters  grave  and 
urgent  demand  me.  Know  that  Eadmer,  the  cheapman, 
waits  without,  and  hath  brought  me,  dear  and  good  man, 
the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  !   What  thought  of  delight !   And 


HAROLD.  229 

this  unmannerly  son  of  strife,  with  his  jay's  voice  and 
wolf's  eyes,  screaming  at  me  for  earldoms  ! — oh  the  folly 
of  man  !     ISTaught,  naught,  very  naught !  " 

"Sir  and  king,"  said  Harold,  "it  ill  becomes  me  to 
arraign  your  pious  desires,  but  these  relics  are  of  vast 
cost ;  our  coasts  are  ill  defended,  and  the  Dane  yet  lays 
claim  to  your  kingdom.  Three  thousand  pounds  of  silver 
and  more  does  it  need  to  repair  even  the  old  wall  of 
London  and  Southweorc." 

"  Three  thousand  pounds  !  "  cried  the  king  ;  "  thou  art 
mad,  Harold  !  I  have  scarce  twice  that  sum  in  the  trea- 
sury ;  and  besides  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  I  daily  expect 
the  tooth  of  St.  Remigius  —  the  tooth  of  St.  Remigius  !*' 

Harold  sighed.  "  Yex  not  yourself,  my  lord  ;  I  will  see 
to  the  defences  of  London.  For,  thanks  to  your  grace, 
my  revenues  are  large,  while  my  wants  are  simple.  I 
seek  you  now  to  pray  your  leave  to  visit  my  earldom. 
My  lithsmen  murmur  at  my  absence,  and  grievances,  many 
and  sore,  have  arisen  in  my  exile," 

The  king  stared  in  terror  ;  and  his  look  was  that  of  a 
child  when  about  to  be  left  in  the  dark. 

"Nay,  nay;  I  cannot  spare  thee,  beau  fr ere.  Thou 
curbest  all  these  stiff  thegns  —  thou  leavest  me  time  for 
the  devout ;  moreover  thy  father,  thy  father,  I  will  not 
be  left  to  thy  father  !     I  love  him  not ! " 

"  My  father  ! "  said  Harold,  mournfully,  "  returns  to 
his  own  earldom  ;  and  of  all  our  House,  you  will  have  but 
the  mild  face  of  your  queen  by  your  side!" 

L— 20 


230  HAROLD. 

The  king's  lip  writhed  at  that  hinted  rebuke,  or  implied 
consolation. 

"  Edith,  the  queen,"  he  said,  after  a  slight  pause,  "  is 
pious  and  good  ;  and  she  hath  never  gainsaid  my  will, 
and  she  hath  set  before  her  as  a  model  the  chaste  Susan- 
nah, as  T,  unworthy  man,  from  youth  upward,  have  walked 
in  the  pure  steps  of  Joseph.*  But,"  added  the  king,  with 
a  touch  of  human  feeling  in  his  voice,  "canst  thou  not 
conceive,  Harold,  thou  who  art  a  warrior,  what  it  would 
be  to  see  ever  before  thee  the  face  of  thy  deadliest  foe — 
the  one  against  whom  all  thy  struggles  of  life  and  death 
had  turned  into  memories  of  hyssop  and  gall  ? " 

"  My  sister  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  indignant  amaze, 
"  my  sister  thy  deadliest  foe  !  She  who  never  once  mur- 
mured at  neglect,  disgrace  —  she  whose  youth  hath  been 
consumed  in  prayers  for  thee  and  thy  realm  —  my  sister  ! 

0  king,  I  dream  I " 

"Thou  dreamest  not,  carnal  man,"  said  the  king, 
peevishly.  "  Dreams  are  the  gifts  of  the  saints,  and  are 
not  granted  to  such  as  thou  !  Dost  thou  think  that,  in 
the  prime  of  my  manhood,  I  could  have  youth  and  beauty 
forced  on  my  sight,  and  hear  man's  law  and  man's  voice 
say,  '  They  are  thine,  and  thine  only,'  and  not  feel  that 
war  was  brought  to  my  hearth,  and  a  snare  set  on  my 
bed,  and  that  the  fiend  had  set  watch  on  my  soul  ?    Yerily, 

1  tell  thee,  man  of  battle,  that  thou  hast  known  no  strife 

*  AiLRED,  de  Vit.  Edw. 


HAROLD.  231 

as  awful  as  mine,  and  achieved  no  victory  as  hard  and  as 
holy.  And  now,  when  ray  beard  is  silver,  and  the  Adam 
of  old  is  expelled  at  the  precincts  of  death  ;  now,  thinkest 
thou,  that  I  can  be  reminded  of  the  strife  and  temptation 
of  yore,  without  bitterness  and  shame  ;  when  days  were 
spent  in  fasting,  and  nights  in  fierce  prayer;  and  in  the 
face  of  woman  I  saw  the  devices  of  Satan  ? " 

Edward  colored  as  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  trembled 
with  the  accents  of  what  seemed  hate.  Harold  gazed  on 
him  mutely,  and  felt  that  at  last  he  had  won  the  secret 
that  had  ever  perplexed  him,  and  that  in  seeking  to  be 
above  the  humanity  of  love,  the  would-be  saint  had  in- 
deed turned  love  into  the  hues  of  hate  —  a  thought  of 
anguish  and  a  memory  of  pain. 

The  king  recovered  himself  in  a  few  moments,  and  said, 
with  some  dignity,  "But  God  and  his  saints  alone  should 
know  the  secrets  of  the  household.  What  I  have  said 
was  wrung  from  me.  Bury  it  in  thy  heart.  Leave  me, 
then,  Harold,  sith  so  it  must  me.  Put  thine  earldom  in 
order,  attend  to  the  monasteries  and  the  poor,  and  return 
soon.     As  for  Algar,  what  sayest  thou  ?  " 

"  I  fear  me,"  answered  the  large-souled  Harold,  with 
a  victorious  effort  of  justice  over  resentment,  "  that  if 
you  reject  his  suit,  you  will  drive  him  into  some  perilous 
extremes.  Despite  his  rash  and  pround  spirit,  he  is  brave 
against  foes,  and  beloved  by  the  ceorls,  who  oft  like  best 
the  frank  and  hasty  spirit.  Wherefore  some  power  and 
lordship  it  were  wise  to  give,  without  dispossessing  others, 


232  HAROLD. 

and  not  more  wise  than  due,  for  his  father  served  you 
well." 

"And  hath  endowed  more  houses  of  God  than  any  earl 
in  the  kingdom.  But  Algar  is  no  Leofric.  We  will  con- 
sider your  words  and  heed  them.  Bless  you,  heau  frhre  ! 
and  send  in  the  cheapman.  The  thumb  of  St.  Jude  ! 
What  a  gift  to  my  new  church  of  St.  Peter  !  The  thumb 
of  St.  Jude  !  —  Non  nobis  gloria!  Sancta  Maria/  The 
thumb  of  St.  Jude  1 " 


BOOK   FIFTH 


DEATH   AND   LOVE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Harold,  without  waiting  once  more  to  see  Edith,  nor 
even  taking  leave  of  his  father,  repaired  to  Dunwich,* 
the  capital  of  his  earldom.  In  his  absence,  the  king 
wholly  forgot  Algar  and  his  suit ;  and  in  the  meanwhile 
the  only  lordships  at  his  disposal,  Stigand,  the  grasping 
bishop,  got  from  him  without  an  eflfort.  In  much  wrath, 
Earl  Algar,  on  the  fourth  day,  assembling  all  the  loose 
men-at-arms  he  could  find  around  the  metropolis,  and  at 
the  head  of  a  numerous  disorderly  band,  took  his  way 
into  Wales,  with  his  young  daughter  Aldyth,  to  whom 
the  crown  of  a  Welch  king  was  perhaps  some  comfort 
for  the  loss  of  the  fair  earl ;  though  the  rumor  ran  that 
she  had  long  since  lost  her  heart  to  her  father's  foe. 

Edith,  after  a  long  homily  from  the  king,  returned  to 
Hilda  ;  nor  did  her  godmother  renew  the  subject  of  the 

*  Dunwich,  now  swallowed  up  by  the  sea.  —  Hostile  element  to 
the  house  of  Godwin  I 

20  *  (  233  ) 


234  HAROLD. 

convent.  All  she  said  on  parting  was,  "  Even  in  youth 
the  silver  cord  may  be  loosened,  and  the  golden  bowl 
may  be  broken  ;  and  rather  perhaps  in  youth  than  in  age 
when  the  heart  has  grown  hard,  wilt  thou  recall  with  a 
sigh  my  counsels." 

Godwin  had  departed  to  Wales ;  all  his  sons  were  at 
their  several  lordships ;  Edward  was  left  alone  to  his 
monks  and  relic-venders.     And  so  months  passed. 

Now  it  was  the  custom  with  the  old  kings  of  England 
to  hold  state  and  wear  their  crowns  thrice  a-year, — at 
Christmas,  at  Easter,  and  at  Whitsuntide  ;  and  in  those 
times  their  nobles  came  round  them,  and  there  was  much 
feasting  and  great  pomp. 

So,  in  the  Easter  month  of  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1053, 
King  Edward  kept  his  court  at  Windshore,*  and  Earl 
Godwin  and  his  sons,  and  many  others  of  high  degree, 
left  their  homes  to  do  honor  to  the  king.  And  Earl 
Godwin  came  first  to  his  house  in  London  —  near  the 
Tower  Palatine,  in  what  is  now  called  the  Elect  —  and 
Harold  the  Earl,  and  Tostig,  and  Leofwine,  and  Gurth, 
were  to  meet  him  there,  and  go  thence  with  the  full  state 
of  their  sub-thegns,  and  cnehts,  and  house-carles,  their 
falcons,  and  their  hounds,  as  became  men  of  such  rank, 
to  the  court  of  King  Edward. 

Earl  Godwin  sate  with  his  wife,  Githa,  in  a  room  out 
of  the  hall,  which  looked  on  the  Thames  —  awaiting 
Harold,  who  was  expected  to  arrive  ere  nightfall.    Gurth 

*  Windsor. 


HAROLD.  235 

had  ridden  forth  to  meet  his  brother,  and  Leofwine  and 
Tostig  had  gone  over  to  Southvvark,  to  try  their  band- 
dogs  on  the  great  bear,  which  had  been  brought  from  the 
North  a  few  days  before,  and  was  said  to  have  hugged 
many  good  hounds  to  death,  and  a  large  train  of  thegns 
and  house-carles  had  gone  with  them  to  see  the  sport; 
so  that  the  old  Earl  and  his  lady  the  Dane  sate  alone. 
And  there  was  a  cloud  upon  Earl  Godwin's  large  fore- 
head,-and  he  sate  by  the  fire,  spreading  his  hands  before 
it,  and  looking  thoughtfully  on  the  flame,  as  it  broke 
through  the  smoke  which  burst  out  into  the  cover,  or  hole 
in  the  roof.  And  in  that  large  house  there  were  no  less 
than  three  "  covers,*'  or  rooms,  wherein  fires  could  be  lit 
in  the  centre  of  the  floor;  and  the  rafters  above  were 
blackened  with  the  smoke  ;  and  in  those  good  old  days, 
ere  chimneys,  if  existing,  were  'much  in  use,  "  poses,  and 
rheumatisms,  and  catarrhs,"  were  unknown  —  so  whole- 
some and  healthful  was  the  smoke.  Earl  Godwin's 
favorite  hound,  old,  like  himself,  lay  at  his  feet,  dream- 
ing, for  it  whined  and  was  restless.  And  the  earl's  old 
hawk,  with  its  feathers  all  stiff  and  sparse,  perched  on 
the  dossel  of  the  earl's  chair ;  and  the  floor  was  pranked 
with  rushes  and  sweet  herbs  —  the  first  of  the  spring; 
and  Githa's  feet  were  on  her  stool,  and  she  leaned  her 
proud  face  on  the  small  hand  which  proved  her  descent 
from  the  Dane,  and  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  and  thought 
of  her  son  Wolnoth  in  the  court  of  the  Norman. 

"  Githa,"  at  last  said  the  earl,  "thou  hast  been  to  me 
a  good  wife  and  a  true,  and  thou  hast  borne  me  tall  and 


236  HAROLD. 

bold  sons,  some  of  whom  have  caused  us  sorrow,  and 
some  joy  ;  and  in  sorrow  and  in  joy  we  have  but  drawn 
closer  to  each  other.  Yet  when  we  wed,  thou  wert  in 
thy  first  youth,  and  the  best  part  of  my  years  was  fled  ; 
and  thou  wert  a  Dane,  and  I  a  Saxon  ;  and  thou  a  king's 
niece,  and  now  a  king's  sister,  and  I  but  tracing  two 
descents  to  thegn's  rank." 

Moved  and  marvelling  at  this  touch  of  sentiment  in 
the  calm  earl,  in  whom  indeed  such  sentiment  was  rare, 
Githa  roused  herself  from  her  musings,  and  said  simply 
and  anxiously  — 

"  I  fear  my  lord  is  not  well,  that  he  speaks  thus  to 
Githa  I " 

The  earl  smiled  faintly. 

"  Thou  art  right  with  thy  woman's  wit,  wife.  And  for 
the  last  few  weeks,  though  I  said  it  not  to  alarm  thee,  I 
have  had  strange  noises  in  my  ears,  and  a  surge,  as  of 
blood  to  the  temples." 

"  0  Godwin  !  dear  spouse,"  said  Githa,  tenderly,  "  and 
I  was  blind  to  the  cause,  but  wondered  why  there  was 
some  change  in  thy  manner  I  But  I  will  go  to  Hilda  to- 
morrow; she  hath  charms  against  all  disease." 

"Leave  Hilda  in  peace,  to  give  her  charms  to  the 
young !  age  defies  Wigh  and  Wicca.  Now  hearken  to 
me.  I  feel  that  my  thread  is  nigh  spent,  and,  as  Hilda 
would  say,  my  Fylgia  forewarns  me  that  we  are  about  to 
part.  Silence,  I  say,  and  hear  me.  I  have  done  proud 
tilings  in  my  day  ;  I  have  made  kings  and  built  thrones, 
and  I  stand  higher  in  England  than  ovor  thegn  or  earl 


HAROLD.  237 

stood  before.  I  would  not,  Githa,  that  the  tree  of  my 
house,  planted  in  the  storm,  and  watered  with  lavish 
blood,  should  wither  away." 

The  old  earl  paused,  and  Githa  said,  loftily  — 
"  Fear  not  that  thy  name  will  pass  from  the  earth,  or 
thy  race  from  power.  For  fame  has  been  wrought  by  thy 
hands,  and  sons  have  been  born  to  thy  embrace  ;  and  the 
boughs  of  the  tree  thou  hast  planted  shall  live  in  the  sun- 
light when  we  its  roots,  0  my  husband,  are  buried  in  the 
earth." 

"Githa,"  replied  the  earl,  "thou  speakest  as  the  daugh- 
ter of  kings  and  the  mother  of  men  ;  but  listen  to  me, 
for  my  soul  is  heavy.  Of  these  our  sons,  our  first-born, 
alas  !  is  a  wanderer  and  outcast — Sweyn,  once  the  beau- 
tiful and  brave  ;  and  Wolnoth,  thy  darling,  is  a  guest  in 
the  court  of  the  Xorman  our  foe.  Of  the  rest,  Gurth  is 
so  mild  and  so  calm,  that  I  predict  without  fear  that  he 
will  be  a  warrior  of  fame,  for  the  mildest  in  hall  are  ever 
the  boldest  in  field,  but  Gurth  hath  not  the  deep  wit  of 
these  tangled  times ;  and  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and 
Tostig  too  fierce.  So  wife  mine,  of  these  our  six  sons, 
Harold  alone,  dauntless  as  Tostig,  mild  as  Gurth,  hath 
his  father's  thoughtful  brain.  And,  if  the  king  remains 
as  aloof  as  now  from  his  royal  kinsman,  Edward  the 
Atheling,  who"  —  the  earl  hesitated  and  looked  round — 
"  who  so  near  to  the  throne  when  I  am  no  more,  as  Ha- 
rold, the  joy  of  the  ceorls,  and  the  pride  of  the  thegns  ? 
he — whose  tongue  never  falters  in  the  Witan,  and  whose 
arm  never  yet  hath  known  defeat  in  the  field?" 


288  HAROLD. 

Gitba's  heart  swelled,  and  her  cheek  grew  flushed. 

"  But  what  I  fear  the  most,"  resumed  the  earl,  "  is, 
not  the  enemy  without,  but  the  jealousy  within.  By  the 
side  of  Harold  stands  Tostig,  rapacious  to  grasp,  but 
impotent  to  hold  —  able  to  ruin,  strengthless  to  save." 

"Nay,  Godwin,  my  lord,  thou  wrongest  our  handsome 
son." 

"Wife,  wife,"  said  the  earl,  stamping  his  foot,  "hear 
me  and  obey  me  :  for  my  words  on  earth  may  be  few, 
and  whilst  thou  gainsayest  me  the  blood  mounts  to  my 
brain,  and  my  eyes  see  through  a  cloud." 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet  lord,"  said  Githa,  humbly. 

"  Mickle  and  sore  it  repents  me  that  in  their  youth  I 
spared  not  the  time  from  my  worldly  ambition  to  watch 
over  the  hearts  of  my  sons  ;  and  thou  wert  too  proud  of 
the  surface  without,  to  look  well  to  the  workings  within, 
and  what  was  once  soft  to  the  touch  is  now  hard  to  the 
hammer.  In  the  battle  of  life  the  arrows  we  neglect  to 
pick  up.  Fate,  our  foe,  will  store  in  her  quiver ;  we  hare 
armed  her  ourselves  with  the  shafts  —  the  more  need  to 
beware  with  the  shield.  Wherefore,  if  thou  survivest  me, 
and  if,  as  I  forebode,  dissension  break  out  between  Ha- 
rold and  Tostig,  I  charge  thee  by  memory  of  our  love, 
and  reverence  for  ray  grave,  to  deem  wise  and  just  all  that 
Harold  deems  just  and  wise.  For  when  Godwin  is  in  the 
dust,  his  House  lives  alone  in  Harold.  Heed  me  now, 
and  heed  ever.  And  so,  while  the  day  yet  lasts,  I  will 
go  forth  into  the  marts  and  the  guilds,  and  talk  with  the 


HAROLD.  239 

burgesses,  and  smile  on  their  wives,  and  be,  to  the  last, 
Godwin  the  smooth  and  the  strong." 

So  saying,  the  old  earl  arose,  and  walked  forth  with  a 
firm  step ;  and  his  old  hound  sprang  up,  pricked  its  ears, 
and  followed  him  ;  the  blinded  falcon  turned  its  head  to- 
wards the  clapping  door,  but  did  not  stir  from  the  dossel. 

Then  Githa  again  leant  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  and 
again  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  gazing  into  the  red  flame 
of  the  fire, — red  and  fitful  through  the  blue  smoke — and 
thought  over  her  lord's  words.  It  might  be  the  third  part 
of  an  hour  after  Godwin  had  left  the  house,  when  the 
door  opened,  and  Githa  expecting  the  return  of  her  sons, 
looked  up  eagerly,  but  it  was  Hilda,  who  stooped  her 
head  under  the  vault  of  the  door;  and  behind  Hilda, 
came  two  of  her  maidens,  bearing  a  small  cyst,  or  chest. 
The  Yala  motioned  to  her  attendants  to  lay  the  cyst  at 
the  feet  of  Githa,  and,  that  done,  with  lowly  salutation 
they  left  the  room. 

The  superstitious  of  the  Danes  were  strong  in  Githa ; 
and  she  felt  an  indescribable  awe  when  Hilda  stood  be- 
fore her,  the  red  light  playing  on  the  Yala's  stern  marble 
face,  and  contrasting  robes  of  funereal  black.  But,  with 
all  her  awe,  Githa,  who,  not  educated  like  her  daughter 
Edith,  had  few  feminine  resources,  loved  the  visits  of  her 
mysterious  kinswoman.  She  loved  to  live  her  youth  over 
again  in  discourse  on  the  wild  customs  and  dark  rites  of 
the  Dane  ;  and  even  her  awe  itself  had  the  charm  which 
the  ghost  tale  has  to  the  child ;  —  for  the  illiterate  are 


240  HAROLD. 

ever  children.  So,  recovering  her  surprise,  and  her  first 
pause,  she  rose  to  welcome  the  Yala,  and  said :  — 

"  Hail,  Hilda,  and  thrice  hail !  The  day  has  been 
v/arm  and  the  way  long ;  and,  ere  thou  takest  food  and 
wine,  let  me  prepare  for  thee  the  bath  for  thy  form,  or 
the  bath  for  thy  feet.  For  as  sleep  to  the  young,  is  the 
bath  to  the  old." 

Hilda  shook  her  head. 

"  Bringer  of  sleep  am  I,  and  the  baths  I  prepare  are 
in  the  halls  of  Yalhalla.  Offer  not  to  the  Yala  the  bath 
for  mortal  weariness,  and  the  wine  and  the  food  meet  for 
human  guests.  Sit  thee  down,  daughter  of  the  Dane, 
and  thank  thy  new  gods  for  the  past  that  hath  been  thine. 
Not  ours  is  the  present,  and  the  future  escapes  from  our 
dreams  ;  but  the  past  is  ours  ever,  and  all  eternity  cannot 
revoke  a  single  joy  that  the  moment  hath  known." 

Then  seating  herself  in  Godwin's  large  chair,  she  leant 
over  her  seid-staff,  and  was  silent,  as  if  absorbed  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  Githa,"  she  said  at  last,  "  where  is  thy  lord  ?  I  came 
to  touch  his  hands  and  to  look  on  his  brow." 

"  He  hath  gone  forth  into  the  mart,  and  my  sons  are 
from  home  :  and  Harold  comes  hither  ere  night,  from  his 
earldom." 

A  faint  smile,  as  of  triumph,  broke  over  the  lips  of  the 
Yala,  and  then  as  suddenly  yielded  to  an  expression  of 
great  sadness. 

"Githa,"  she  said,   slowly,   "doubtless  thou  remem- 


HAROLD.  241 

berest  in  thy  young  days  to  have  seen  or  heard  of  the 
terrible  hell- maid  Belsta  ^  " 

"Ay,  ay,"  answered  Githa,  shuddering ;  "  I  saw  her 
once  in  gloomy  weather,  driving  before  her  herds  of  dark 
grey  cattle.  Ay,  ay ;  and  my  father  beheld  her  ere  his 
death,  riding  the  air  on  a  wolf,  with  a  snake  for  a  bridle. 
"Why  askest  thou?" 

"Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Hilda,  evading  the  question, 
"that  Belsta,  and  Heida,  and  Hulla  of  old,  the  wolf- 
riders,  the  men-devourers,  could  win  to  the  uttermost 
secrets  of  galdra,  though  applied  only  to  purposes  the 
direst  and  fellest  to  man,  and  that  I,  though  ever  in  the 
future,  —  I,  though  tasking  the  Xormans  not  to  afflict 
a  foe,  but  to  shape  the  careers  of  those  I  love,  —  I  find, 
indeed,  my  predictions  fulfilled  ;  but  how  often,  alas ! 
only  in  horror  and  doom  ! " 

"  How  so,  kinswoman,  how  so  ?  "  said  Githa,  awed,  yet 
charmed  in  the  awe,  and  drawing  her  chair  nearer  to  the 
mournful  sorceress.  "  Didst  thou  not  foretell  our  return 
in  triumph  from  the  unjust  outlawry,  and,  lo,  it  hath 
come  to  pass  ?  and  hast  thou  not  (here  Githa's  proud 
face  flushed)  "  foretold  also  that  ray  stately  Harold  shall 
wear  the  diadem  of  a  king  ?  " 

"Truly,  the  first  came  to  pass,"  said  Hilda;  "but — " 
she  paused,  and  her  eye  fell  on  the  cyst ;  then  breaking 
oflT  she  continued,  speaking  to  herself  rather  than  to 
Githa  —  "And  Harold's  dream,  what  did  that  portend  ? 
the  runes  fail  me,  and  the  dead  give  no  voice.     And  be- 

I.  —  21  Q 


242  HAROLD. 

youd  one  dim  day,  in  which  his  betrothed  shall  clasp  him 
with  the  arms  of  a  bride,  all  is  dark  to  my  vision  —  dark 

dark.     Speak  not  to  me,  Githa  ;  for  a  burthen,  heavy 

as  the  stone  on  a  grave,  rests  on  a  weary  heart ! " 

A  dead  silence  succeeded,  till,  pointing  with  her  staflf 
to  the  fire,  the  Yala  said,  "  Lo,  where  the  smoke  and  the 
flame  contend  !  —  the  smoke  rises  in  dark  gyres  to  the 
air,  and  escapes,  to  join  the  wrack  of  clouds.     From  the 
first  to  the  last  we  trace  its  birth  and  its  fall ;  from  the 
heart  of  the  fire  to  the  descent  in  the  rain,  so  is  it  with 
human  reason,  which  is  not  the  light  but  the  smoke ;  it 
struggles  but  to  darken  us ;  it  soars  but  to  melt  in  the 
vapor  and  dew.     Yet  lo,  the  flame  burns  in  our  hearth 
till  the  fuel  fails,  and  goes  at  last,  none  know  whither. 
But  it  lives  in  the  air  though  we  see  it  not ;  it  lurks  in 
the  stone  and  waits  the  flash  of  the  steel ;  it  coils  round 
the  dry  leaves  and  sere  stalks,  and  a  touch  re-illumines 
it ;  it  plays  in  the  marsh  —  it  collects  in  the  heavens  —  it 
appals  us  in  the  lightning  —  it  gives  warmth  to  the  air 
—  life  of  our  life,  and  element  of  all  elements.     O  Githa, 
the  flame  is  the  light  of  the  soul,  the  element  everlasting ; 
and    it  liveth  still,  when  it   escapes  from  our  view ;    it 
burneth  in  the  shapes  to  which  it  passes ;  it  vanishes  but 
is  never  extinct." 

So  saying,  the  Yala's  lips  again  closed;  and  again 
botli  the  women  sate  silent  by  the  great  fire,  as  it  flared 
and  flickered  over  the  deep  lines  and  high  features  of 
Githa,  the  earPs  wife,  and  the  calm,  unwrinkled,  solemn 
face  of  the  melancholy  Yala. 


HAROLD.  243 


CHAPTER   II. 

While  these  conferences  took  place  in  the  house  of 
Godwin,  Harold,  on  his  way  to  London,  dismissed  his 
train  to  precede  him  to  his  father's  roof,  and,  striking 
across  the  country,  rode  fast  and  alone  towards  the  old 
Roman  abode  of  Hilda.  Mouths  had  elapsed  since  he 
had  seen  or  heard  of  Edith.  Xews  at  that  time,  I  need 
not  say,  was  rare  and  scarce,  and  limited  to  public  events, 
either  transmitted  by  special  nuncius,  or  passing  pilgrim, 
or  borne  from  lip  to  lip  by  the  talk  of  the  scattered  multi- 
tude. But  even  in  his  busy  and  anxious  duties,  Harold 
had  in  vain  sought  to  banish  from  his  heart  the  image 
of  that  young  girl,  whose  life  he  needed  no  Yala  to  pre- 
dict to  him  was  interwoven  with  the  fibres  of  his  own. 
The  obstacles  which,  while  he  yielded  to,  he  held  unjust 
and  tyrannical,  obstacles  allowed  by  his  reluctant  reason 
and  his  secret  ambition  —  not  sanctified  by  conscience  — 
only  inflamed  the  deep  strength  of  the  solitary  passion 
his  life  had  known  ;  a  passion  that,  dating  from  the  very 
childhood  of  Edith,  had,  often  unknown  to  himself, 
animated  his  desire  of  fame,  and  mingled  with  his  visions 
of  power.  Nor,  though  hope  was  far  and  dim,  was  it 
extinct.  The  legitimate  heir  of  Edward  the  Confessor 
was  a  prince  living  in  the  court  of  the  Emperor,  of  fair 
repute,  and  himself  wedded  ;  and  Edward's  health,  always 


244  HAROLD. 

precarious,  seemed  to  forbid  any  very  prolonged  existence 
to  the  reigning  king.  Therefore,  he  thought,  that 
through  the  successor,  whose  throne  would  rest  in  safety 
upon  Harold's  support,  he  might  easily  obtain  that  dis- 
pensation from  the  Pope  which  he  knew  the  present  king 
would  never  ask  —  a  dispensation  rarely  indeed,  if  ever, 
accorded  to  any  subject,  and  which,  therefore,  needed  all 
a  king's  power  to  back  it. 

So  in  that  hope,  and  fearful  lest  it  should  be  quenched 
for  ever  by  Edith's  adoption  of  the  veil  and  the  irrevoca- 
ble vow,  with  a  beating,  disturbed,  but  joyful  heart,  he 
rode  over  field  and  through  forest  to  the  old  Roman 
house. 

He  emerged  at  length  to  the  rear  of  the  villa,  and  the 
sun,  fast  hastening  to  its  decline,  shone  full  upon  the 
rude  columns  of  the  Druid  temple ;  and  there,  as  he  had 
seen  her  before,  when  he  had  first  spoken  of  love  and  its 
barriers,  he  beheld  the  young  maiden. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  leaving  the  well-trained 
animal  loose  to  browse  on  the  waste  land,  he  ascended 
the  knoll.  He  stole  noiselessly  behind  Edith,  and  his 
foot  stumbled  against  the  grave-stone  of  the  dead  Titan- 
Saxon  of  old  ;  but  the  apparition,  whether  real  or  fancied, 
and  the  dream  that  had  followed,  had  long  passed  from 
his  memory,  and  no  superstition  was  in  the  heart  spring- 
ing to  the  lips,  that  cried  "Edith,"  once  again. 

The  girl  started,  looked  round,  and  fell  upon  his  breast. 

It  was  some  moments  before  she  recovered  conscious- 


HAROLD.  245 

ness,  and  then,  withdrawing  herself  gently  from  his  arras, 
she  leant  for  support  against  the  Teuton   altar. 

She  was  much  changed  since  Harold  had  seen  her  last : 
her  cheek  had  grown  pale  and  thin,  and  her  rounded  form 
seemed  wasted ;  and  sharp  grief,  as  he  gazed,  shot 
through  the  soul  of  Harold. 

"  Thou  hast  pined,  thou  hast  suflered,"  said  he  mourn- 
fully :  "  and  T,  who  would  shed  ray  life's  blood  to  take 
one  from  thy  sorrows,  or  add  to  one  of  thy  joys,  have 
been  afar,  unable  to  comfort,  perhaps  only  a  cause  of 
thy  woe." 

"No,  Harold,"  said  Edith,  faintly,  "never  of  woe; 
always  of  comfort,  even  in  absence.  I  have  been  ill,  and 
Hilda  hath  tried  rune  and  charm  all  in  vain  ;  but  I  am 
better,  now  that  Spring  hath  come  tardily  forth,  and  I 
look  on  the  fresh  flowers,  and  hear  the  song  of  the  birds." 

But  tears  were  in  the  sound  of  her  voice,  while  she 
spoke. 

"  And  they  have  not  tormented  thee  again  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  convent  ?  " 

"They?  no; — but  my  soul,  yes.  0  Harold,  release 
me  from  my  promise  ;  for  the  time  already  hath  come 
that  thy  sister  foretold  to  me  ;  the  silver  cord  is  loosened, 
and  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  I  would  fain  take  the 
wings  of  the  dove,  and  be  at  peace." 

"Is  it  so?  —  Is  there  peace  in  the  home  where  the 
thought  of  Harold  becomes  a  sin  ?  " 

"  Not  sin  then  and  there,  Harold,  not  sin.     Thy  sister 
21  * 


240  HAROLD. 

hailed  tlie  convent  when  she  thought  of  prayer  for  those 
she  loved." 

"  Prate  not  to  me  of  my  sister  !  "  said  Harold,  through 
his  set  teeth.  "  It  is  but  a  mockery  to  talk  of  prayer  for 
the  heart  that  thou  thyself  rendest  in  twain.  Where  is 
Hilda?     I  would  see  her." 

"She  hath  gone  to  thy  father's  house  with  a  gift ;  and 
it  was  to  watch  for  her  return  that  I  sate  on  the  green 
knoll." 

The  earl  then  drew  near  and  took  her  hand,  and  sate 
by  her  side,  and  they  conversed  long.  But  Harold  saw 
with  a  fierce  pang  that  Edith's  heart  was  set  upon  the 
convent,  and  that  even  in  his  presence,  and  despite  his 
soothing  words,  she  was  broken-spirited  and  despondent. 
It  seemed  as  if  her  youth  and  life  had  gone  from  her, 
and  the  day  had  come  in  which  she  said,  "  There  is  no 
pleasure." 

Never  had  he  seen  her  thus ;  and,  deeply  moved  as 
well  as  keenly  stung,  he  rose  at  length  to  depart ;  her 
hand  lay  passive  in  his  parting  clasp,  and  a  slight  shiver 
went  over  her  frame. 

''Farewell,  Edith;  when  I  return  from  Windshore,  I 
shall  be  at  my  old  home  yonder,  and  we  shall  meet 
again." 

Edith's  lips  murmured  inaudibly,  and  she  bent  her  eyes 
to  the  ground. 

Slowly  Harold  regained  his  steed,  and  as  he  rode  on, 
he  looked  behind  and  waved  oft  his  hand ;  but  Edith 
sate  motionless,  her  eyes  still  on  the  ground,  and  he  saw 


HAROLD.  247 

not  the  tears  that  fell  from  them  fast  and  burning ;  nor 
heard  he  the  low  voice  that  groaned  amidst  the  heathen 
ruins,  "  Mary,  sweet  mother,  shelter  me  from  my  own 
heart ! " 

The  sun  had  set  before  Harold  gained  the  long  and 
spacious  abode  of  his  father.  All  around  it  lay  the  roofs 
and  huts  of  the  great  earl's  special  tradesmen,  for  even 
his  goldsmith  was  but  his  freed  ceorl.  The  house  itself 
stretched  far  from  the  Thames  inland,  with  several  low 
courts  built  only  of  timber,  rugged  and  shapeless,  but 
filled  with  bold  men,  then  the  great  furniture  of  a  noble's 
halls. 

Amidst  the  shouts  of  hundreds,  eager  to  hold  his 
stirrup,  the  earl  dismounted,  passed  the  swarming  hall, 
and  entered  the  room,  in  which  he  found  Hilda  and 
Githa  —  and  Godwin,  who  had  preceded  his  entry  but  a 
few  minutes. 

In  the  beautiful  reverence  of  sou  to  father,  which  made 
one  of  the  loveliest  features  of  the  Saxon  character  *  (as 
the  frequent  want  of  it  makes  the  most  hateful  of  the 
Norman  vices),  the  all-powerful  Harold  bowed  his  knee 
to  the  old  earl,  who  placed  his  hand  on  his  head  in  bene- 
diction, and  then  kissed  him  on  the  cheek  and  brow. 

"  Thy  kiss,  too,  dear  mother,"  said  the  younger  earl ; 
and  Githa's  embrace,  if  more  cordial  than  her  lord's, 
was  not,  perhaps,  more  fond. 

*  The  chronicler,  however,  laments  that  the  household  ties,  for- 
merly so  strong  with  the  Anglo-Saxon,  had  been  much  weakened 
in  the  age  prior  to  the  Conquest, 


:>48  HAROLD. 

"  Greet  Hilda,  my  son,"  said  Godwin,  "  slie  hath 
brought  me  a  gift,  and  she  hath  tarried  to  place  it  under 
thy  special  care.  Thou  alone  must  heed  the  treasure, 
and  open  the  casket.     But  when   and  where,  my  kins- 


woman 


?" 


"On  the  sixth  day  after  thy  coming  to  the  king's 
hall,"  answered  Hilda,  not  returning  the  smile  with  which 
Godwin  spoke  — "  on  the  sixth  day,  Harold,  open  the 
chest,  and  take  out  the  robe  which  hath  been  spun  in 
the  house  of  Hilda  for  Godwin  the  Earl.  And  now, 
Godwin,  I  have  clasped  thine  hand,  and  I  have  looked 
on  thy  brow,  and  my  mission  is  done  ;  and  I  must  wend 
homeward." 

"  That  shalt  thou  not,  Hilda,"  said  the  hospitable  earl ; 
"  the  meanest  wayfarer  hath  a  right  to  bed  and  board  in 
this  house  for  a  night  and  a  day,  and  thou  wilt  not  dis- 
grace us  by  leaving  our  threshold,  the  bread  unbroken, 
and  the  couch  unpressed.  Old  friend,  we  were  young 
together,  and  thy  face  is  welcome  to  me  as  the  memory 
of  former  days." 

Hilda  shook  her  head,  and  one  of  those  rare,  and  for 
that  reason,  most  touching,  expressions  of  tenderness,  of 
which  the  calm  and  rigid  character  of  her  features,  when 
in  repose,  seemed  scarcely  susceptible,  softened  her  eye, 
and  relaxed  the  firm  lines  of  her  lips. 

"  Son  of  Wolnoth,"  said  she,  gently,  "  not  under  thy 
roof-tree  should  lodge  the  raven  of  bode.  Bread  have  I 
not  broken  since  yestere'en,  and  sleep  will  be  far  from 
my  eyes  to-night.     Fear  not,  for  my  people  without  are 


HAROLD.  249 

stout  and  armed,  and  for  the  rest  there  lives  not  the  man 
whose  arm  can  have  power  over  Hilda." 

She  took  Harold's  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  leading 
him  forth,  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  I  would  have  a  word 
with  thee  ere  we  part."  Then,  reaching  the  threshold, 
she  waved  her  wand  thrice  over  the  floor,  and  muttered 
in  the  Danish  tongue  a  rude  verse,  which,  translated, 
ran  somewhat  thus  :  — 

"AH  free  from  the  knot 

Glide  the  thread  of  the  skein, 
And  rest  to  the  labor, 
And  peace  to  the  pain  I" 

"It  is  a  death-dirge,"  said  Githa,  with  whitening  lips; 
but  she  spoke  inly,  and  neither  husband  nor  son  heard 
her  words. 

Hilda  and  Harold  passed  in  silence  through  the  hall, 
and  the  Yala's  attendants,  with  spears  and  torches,  rose 
from  the  settles,  and  went  before  to  the  outer  court, 
where  snorted  impatiently  her  black  palfrey. 

Halting  in  the  midst  of  the  court,  she  said  to  Harold 
in  a  low  voice  — 

"At  sunset  we  part  —  at  sunset  we  shall  meet  again. 
And  behold,  the  star  rises  on  the  sunset ;  and  the  star, 
broader  and  brighter,  shall  rise  on  the  sunset  then  ! 
When  thy  hand  draws  the  robe  from  the  chest,  think  on 
Hilda,  and  know  that  at  that  hour  she  stands  by  the 
grave  of  the  Saxon  warrior,  and  that  from  the  grave 
dawns  the  future.     Farewell  to  thee  ! " 

Harold  longed  to  speak  to  her  of  Edith,  but  a  strange 


250  HAROLD. 

awe  at  his  heart  chained  his  lips ;  so  he  stood  silent  by 
the  great  wooden  gates  of  the  rude  house.  The  torches 
flamed  round  him,  and  Hilda's  face  seemed  lurid  in  the 
glare.  There  he  stood  musing  long  after  torch  and  ceorl 
had  passed  away,  nor  did  he  wake  from  his  reverie  till 
Gurth,  springing  from  his  panting  horse,  passed  his  arm 
round  the  earl's  shoulder,  and  cried  — 

"  How  did  I  miss  thee,  my  brother  !  and  why  didst 
thou  forsake  thy  train  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  thee  anon.  Gurth,  has  my  father  ailed  ? 
There  is  that  in  his  face  which  I  like  not." 

"  He  hath  not  complained  of  misease,"  said  Gurth, 
startled  ;  "  but  now  thou  speakest  of  it,  his  mood  hath 
altered  of  late,  and  he  hath  wandered  much  alone,  or 
only  with  the  old  hound  and  the  old  falcon." 

Then  Harold  turned  back,  and  his  heart  was  full,  and 
when  he  reached  the  house,  his  father  was  sitting  in  the 
hall  on  his  chair  of  state  ;  and  Githa  sate  on  his  right 
hand,  and  a  little  below  her  sate  Tostig  and  Leofwine, 
who  had  come  in  from  the  bear-hunt  by  the  river-gate, 
and  were  talking  loud  and  merrily;  and  thegns  and 
cnehts  sate  all  around,  and  there  was  wassail  as  Harold 
entered ;  but  the  earl  looked  only  to  his  father,  and  he 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  absent  from  the  glee,  and  that  he 
was  bending  his  head  over  the  old  falcon,  which  sate  on 
his  wrist. 


HAROLD.  251 


CHAPTER   III. 

No  subject  of  England,  since  the  race  of  Cerdic  sate 
on  the  throne,  ever  entered  the  court-yard  of  Windshore 
with  such  train  and  such  state  as  Earl  Godwin.  Proud 
of  that  first  occasion,  since  his  return,  to  do  homage  to 
him  with  whose  cause  that  of  England  against  the 
stranger  was  bound,  all  truly  English  at  heart  amongst 
the  thegns  of  the  land  swelled  his  retinue.  Whether 
Saxon  or  Dane,  those  who  alike  loved  the  laws  and  the 
soil,  came  from  north  and  from  south  to  the  peaceful 
banner  of  the  old  earl ;  but  most  of  these  were  of  the 
past  generation,  for  the  rising  race  were  still  dazzled  by 
the  pomp  of  the  Norman ;  and  the  fashion  of  English 
•manners,  and  the  pride  in  English  deeds,  had  gone  out 
of  date  with  long  locks  and  bearded  chins.  Nor  there, 
were  the  bishops  and  abbots  and  the  lords  of  the  Church, 
— for  dear  to  them  already  the  fame  of  the  Norman  piety, 
and  they  shared  the  distaste  of  their  holy  king  to  the 
strong  sense  and  homely  religion  of  Godwin,  who  founded 
no  convents,  and  rode  to  war  with  no  relics  round  his 
neck  ;  but  they  with  Godwin  were  the  stout  and  the  frank 
and  the  free,  in  whom  rested  the  pith  and  marrow  of  Eng- 
lish manhood  ;  and  they  who  were  against  him  were  the 
blind  and  willing  and  fated  fathers  of  slaves  unborn. 

Not  then  the  stately  castle  we  now  behold,  which  ih  of 


20'2  HAROLD. 

the  masonry  of  a  prouder  race,  nor  on  the  same  site,  but 
two  miles  distant  on  the  winding  of  the  river  shore 
(whence  it  took  its  name),  a  rude  building  partly  of  tim- 
ber and  partly  of  Roman  brick,  adjoining  a  large  monas- 
tery and  surrounded  by  a  small  hamlet,  constituted  the 
palace  of  the  saint-king. 

So  rode  the  earl  and  his  four  fair  sons,  all  abreast,  into 
the  court-yard  of  Windshore.*  Now  when  King  Edward 
heard  the-  tramp  of  the  steeds  and  the  hum  of  the  multi- 
tudes, as  he  sate  in  his  closet  with  his  abbots  and  priests, 
all  in  still  contemplation  of  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  the 
king  asked, — 

"What  army,  in  the  day  of  peace,  and  the  time  of 
Easter,  enters  the  gates  of  our  palace  ? " 

Then  an  abbot  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  narrow  win- 
dow, and  said  with  a  groan, — 

"Army  thou  may'st  well  call  it,  0  king  !  —  and  foes  to 
us  and  to  thee  head  the  legions " 

"  /nprinis,"  quoth  our  abbot  the  scholar  ;  "  thou  speak- 
est,  I  trow,  of  the  wicked  earl  and  his  sons." 

The  king's  face  changed.  "  Come  they,"  said  he,  "  with 
so  large  a  train  ?  This  smells  more  of  vaunt  than  of 
loyalty:  naught  —  very  naught." 

■''"Some  authorities  state  Winchester  as  the  scene  of  these  memor- 
able festivities.  Old  Windsor  Castle  is  supposed  by  Mr.  Lysons  to 
have  occupied  the  site  of  a  farm  of  Mr.  Isherwood's,  siu-rounded 
by  a  moat,  about  two  miles  distant  from  New  Windsor.  lie  con- 
^iectures  that  it  was  still  occasionally  inhabited  by  the  Norman 
kings  till  1110.  The  ville  surrounding  it  only  contained  ninety- 
five  houses,  paying  gabel-tux,  in  the  Norman  survey. 


HAROLD.  253 

"Alack  ! "  said  one  of  the  conclave,  "  I  fear  me  that 
the  men  of  Belial  will  work  us  harm  ;  the  heathen  are 
mighty,  and " 

"Fear  not,"  said  Edward,  with  benign  loftiness,  ob- 
serving that  his  guests  grew  pale,  and  himself,  though 
often  weak  to  childishness,  and  morally  wavering  and 
irresolute, — still  so  far  king  and  gentleman,  that  he  knew 
no  craven  fear  of  the  body.  "Fear  not  for  me,  my 
fathers  ;  humble  as  I  am,  I  am  strong  in  the  faith  of 
heaven  and  its  angels." 

The  churchmen  looked  at  each  other,  sly  yet  abashed  ; 
it  was  not  precisely  for  the  king  that  they  feared. 

Then  spoke  Aired,  the  good  prelate  and  constant  peace- 
maker—  fair  column  and  lone  one  of  the  fast-crumbling 
Saxon  Church.  "  It  is  ill  in  you,  brethren,  to  arraign 
the  truth  and  good  meaning  of  those  who  honor  your 
king  ;  and  in  these  days  that  lord  should  ever  be  the  most 
welcome  who  brings  to  the  halls  of  his  king  the  largest 
number  of  hearts,  stout  and  leal." 

"  By  your  leave,  brother  Aired,"  said  Stigand,  who, 
though  from  motives  of  policy  he  had  aided  those  who 
besought  the  king  not  to  peril  his  crown  by  resisting  the 
return  of  Godwin,  benefited  too  largely  by  the  abuses  of 
the  Church  to  be  sincerely  espoused  to  the  cause  of  the 
strong-minded  earl;  "By  your  leave,  brother  Aired,  to 
every  leal  heart  is  a  ravenous  mouth  ;  and  the  treasures 
of  the  king  are  well-nigh  drained  in  feeding  these  hungry 
and  welcomeless  visitors.  Durst  I  counsel,  my  lord,  I 
would  pray  him,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  to  baffle  this  astute 

I.  — 22 


254  HAROLD. 

and  proud  earl.  He  would  fain  have  the  king  feast  in 
public,  that  he  might  daunt  him  and  the  Church  with  the 
array  of  his  friends." 

"  I  conceive  thee,  my  father,"  said  Edward,  with  more 
quickness  than  habitual,  and  with  the  cunning,  sharp 
though  guileless,  that  belongs  to  minds  undeveloped,  "  I 
conceive  thee ;  it  is  good  and  most  politic.  This  our 
orgulous  earl  shall  not  have  his  triumph,  and,  so  fresh 
from  his  exile,  brave  his  king  with  the  mundane  parade 
of  his  power.  Our  health  is  our  excuse  for  our  absence 
from  the  banquet,  and,  sooth  to  say,  we  marvel  much 
why  Easter  should  be  held  a  fitting  time  for  feasting  and 
mirth.  Wherefore,  Hugoline,  my  chamberlain,  advise 
the  earl,  that  to-day  we  keep  fast  till  the  sunset,  when 
temperately,  with  eggs,  bread,  and  fish,  we  will  sustain 
Adam's  nature.  Pray  him  and  his  sons  to  attend  us  — 
they  alone  be  our  guests."  And  with  a  sound  that 
seemed  a  laugh,  or  the  ghost  of  a  laugh,  low  and  chuck- 
ling—  for  Edward  had  at  moments  an  innocent  humor 
which  his  monkish  biographer  disdained  not  to  note,*  — 
he  flung  himself  back  in  his  chair.  The  priests  took  the 
cue,  and  shook  their  sides  heartily,  as  Hugoline  left  the 
room,  not  ill  pleased,  by  the  way,  to  escape  an  invitation 
to  the  eggs,  bread,  and  fish. 

Aired  sighed;  and  said,  "For  the  earl  and  his  sons, 
this  is  honor ;  but  the  other  earls  and  the  thegns,  will 
miss  at  the  banquet  him  whom  they  design  but  to  honor, 
and " 


*  AiLRED,  dc  Vit.  Edtvard,  Confess. 


HAROLD.  255 

"I  have  said,''  interrupted  Edward,  dryly,  and  with  a 
look  of  fatigue. 

"And,"  observed  another  churchman,  with  malice,  "  at 
least  the  young  earls  will  be  humbled,  for  they  will  not 
sit  with  the  king  and  their  father,  as  they  would  in  the 
Hall,  and  must  serve  my  lord  with  napkin  and  wine." 

"Inprinis,^^  quoth  our  scholar  the  abbot,  "  that  will  be 
rare  !  I  would  I  were  by  to  see  ;  but  this'  Godwin  is  a 
man  of  treachery  and  wile,  and  my  lord  should  beware  of 
the  fate  of  murdered  Alfred  his  brother  ! " 

The  king  started,  and  pressed  his  hands  to  his  eyes. 

"  How  darest  thou,  Abbot  of  Fatchere,"  cried  Aired, 
indignantly ;  "  How  darest  thou  revive  grief  without 
remedy,  and  slander  without  proof?" 

"Without  proof?"  echoed  Edward,  in  a  hollow  voice. 
"  He  who  could  murder,  could  well  stoop  to  forswear  ! 
Without  proof  before  man  ;  but  did  he  try  the  ordeals  of 
God  ?  —  did  his  feet  pass  the  plough-share  ?  —  did  his 
hand  grasp  the  seething-iron  ?  Yerily,  verily,  thou  didst 
wrong  to  name  to  me  Alfred  my  brother  !  I  shall  see 
his  sightless  and  gore-dropping  sockets  in  the  face  of 
Godwin,  this  day,  at  ray  board." 

The  king  rose  in  great  disorder ;  and  after  pacing  the 
room  some  moments,  disregardful  of  the  silent  and  scared 
looks  of  his  churchmen,  waved  his  hand,  in  sign  to  them 
to  depart.  All  took  the  hint  at  once  save  Aired ;  but 
he,  lingering  the  last,  approached  the  king  with  dignity 
in  his  step  and  compassion  in  his  eyes. 

"Banish  from  thy  breast,  0  king  and  son,  thoughts  un- 


256  HAROLD. 

meet,  and  of  doubtful  charity  I  All  that  man  could  know 
of  Godwin's  innocence  or  guilt  —  the  suspicion  of  the 
vulgar  —  the  acquittal  of  his  peers,  —  was  known  to  thee 
before  thou  didst  seek  his  aid  for  thy  throne,  and  didst 
take  his  child  for  thy  wife.  Too  late  is  it  now  to  sus- 
pect ;  leave  thy  doubts  to  the  solemn  day,  which  draws 
nigh  to  the  old  man,  thy  wife's  father  ! " 

"  Ha ! "  said  the  king,  seeming  not  to  heed,  or  wilfully 
to  misunderstand  the  prelate,  "  Ha,  leave  him  to  God  ; — • 
I  will  1 " 

He  turned  away  impatiently ;  and  the  prelate  reluct- 
antly departed. 


CHAPTER ly. 

TosTiG  chafed  mightily  at  the  king's  message  ;  and,  on 
Harold's  attempt  to  pacify  him,  grew  so  violent  that 
nothing  short  of  the  cold,  stern  command  of  his  father, 
who  carried  with  him  that  weight  of  authority  never 
known  but  to  those  in  whom  wrath  is  still  and  passion 
noiseless,  imposed  sullen  peace  on  his  son's  rugged  nature. 
But  the  taunts  heaped  by  Tostig  upon  Harold  disquieted 
the  old  earl,  and  his  brow  was  yet  sad  with  prophetic 
care  when  he  entered  the  royal  apartments.  He  had  been 
introduced  into  the  king's  presence  but  a  moment  before 
Hugoline  led  the  way  to  the  chamber  of  repast,  and  the 
greeting  between  king  and  earl  had  been  brief  and  formal. 


HAROLD.  251 

Under  the  canopy  of  state  were  placed  but  two  chairs, 
for  the  king  and  the  queen's  father ;  and  the  four  sons, 
Harold,  Tostig,  Leofwine,  and  Gurth,  stood  behind. 
Such  was  the  primitive  custom  of  ancient  Teutonic  kings  J 
and  the  feudal  Xorraan  monarchs  only  enforced,  though 
with  more  pomp  and  more  rigor,  the  ceremonial  of  the 
forest  patriarchs — youth  to  wait  on  age,  and  the  ministers 
of  the  realm  on  those  whom  their  policy  had  made  chiefs 
in  council  and  war. 

The  earl's  mind,  already  embittered  by  the  scene  with 
his  sons,  was  chafed  yet  more  by  the  king's  unloving 
coldness;  for  it  is  natural  to  man,  however  worldly,  to 
feel  affection  for  those  he  has  served,  and  Godwin  had 
won  Edward  his  crown  ;  nor,  despite  his  warlike  though 
bloodless  return,  could  even  monk  or  Xorman,  in  count- 
ing up  the  old  earl's  crimes,  say  that  he  had  ever  failed 
in  personal  respect  to  the  king  he  had  made  ;  nor  over- 
great  for  subject,  as  the  earl's  power  must  be  confessed, 
will  historian  now  be  found  to  say  that  it  had  not  been 
well  for  Saxon  England  if  Godwin  had  found  more  favor 
with  his  king,  and  monk  and  Xorman  less.* 

So  the  old  earl's  stout  heart  was  stuno^,  and  he  looked 


*  "Is  it  astonishing,"  asked  the  people  (referring  to  Edward's 
preference  of  the  Normans),  "that  the  author  and  support  of 
Edward's  reign  should  be  indignant  at  seeing  new  men  from  a 
foreign  nation  raised  above  him,  and  yet  never  does  he  utter  one 
harsh  word  to  the  man  whom  he  himself  created  king." — Hazlitt's 
Thierry,  vol.  i.  p.  126. 

This  is  the  English  account  [versus  the  Norman),  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  it  is  the  true  one. 


258  HAROLD. 

from  those  deep,  impenetrable  eyes,  mournfully  upon  Ed- 
ward's chilling  brow. 

And  Harold,  with  whom  all  household  ties  were  strong, 
but  to  whom  his  great  father  was  especially  dear,  watched 
his  face  and  saw  that  it  was  very  flushed.  But  the 
practised  courtier  sought  to  rally  his  spirits,  and  to  smile 
and  jest. 

From  smile  and  jest,  the  king  turned  and  asked  for 
wine.  Harold,  starting,  advanced  with  the  goblet ;  as 
he  did  so,  he  stumbled  with  one  foot,  but  lightly  re- 
covered himself  with  the  other;  and  Tostig  laughed 
scornfully  at  Harold's  awkwardness. 

The  old  earl  observed  both  stumble  and  laugh,  and 
willing  to  suggest  a  lesson  to  both  his  sons,  said — laugh- 
ing pleasantly  —  "  Lo,  Harold,  how  the  left  foot  saves 
the  right ! — so  one  brother,  thou  seest,  helps  the  other  !  "  * 

King  Edward  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  And  so,  Godwin,  also,  had  my  brother  Alfred  helped 
me,  hadst  thou  permitted." 

The  old  earl,  galled  to  the  quick,  gazed  a  moment  on 
the  king,  and  his  cheek  was  purple,  and  his  eyes  seemed 
bloodshot. 

"  0  Edward  I "  he  exclaimed,  "  thou  speakest  to  me 
hardly  and  unkindly  of  thy  brother  Alfred,  and  often  hast 
thou  thus  more  than  hinted  that  I  caused  his  death." 

The  king  made  no  answer. 

"  May  this  crumb  of  bread  choke  me,"  said  the  earl, 

*  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  &c. 


HAROLD.  259 

ia  great  emotion,  "  if  I  am  guilty  of  thy  brother's 
blood  !"  * 

But  scarcely  had  the  bread  touched  his  lips,  when  his 
eyes  fixed,  the  long  warning  symptoms  were  fulfilled. 
And  he  fell  to  the  ground,  under  the  table,  sudden  and 
heavy,  smitten  by  the  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

Harold  and  Gurth  sprang  forward,  they  drew  their 
father  from  the  ground.  His  face,  still  deep-red  with 
streaks  of  purple,  rested  on  Harold's  breast ;  and  the 
son,  kneeling,  called  in  anguish  on  his  father :  the  ear 
was  deaf. 

Then  said  the  king,  rising,  — 

"  It  is  the  hand  of  God  :  remove  him  !  "  and  he  swept 
from  the   room,  exulting. 


CHAPTER   V. 

For  five  days  and  five  nights  did  Godwin  lie  speech- 
less, f  And  Harold  watched  over  him  night  and  day. 
And  the  leaches  |  would  not  bleed  him,  because  the 
season  was  against  it,  in  the  increase  of  the  moon  and 
the  tides,  but  they  bathed  his  temples  with  wheat  flour 
boiled   in  milk,  according   to   a   prescription  which  an 

*  Henry  of  Huntingdon  ;  Bromt.  Chron.  &c.  f  Hoveden. 

+  The  origin  of  the  word  leach  (physician),  which  has  puzzled 
some  inquirers,  is  from  lich,  or  leac,  a  body.  Leich  is  the  old  Saxon 
word  for  surgeon. 


2G0  HAROLD. 

angel  in  a  dream  *  had  advised  to  another  patient ;  and 
they  placed  a  plate  of  lead  on  his  breast,  marked  with 
five  crosses,  saying  a  paternoster  over  each  cross  ;  to- 
gether with  other  medical  specifics  in  great  esteem,  f 
But,  nevertheless,  five  days  and  five  nights  did  Godwin 
lie  speechless ;  and  the  leaches  then  feared  that  human 
skill  was  in  vain. 

The  efi'ect  produced  on  the  court,  not  more  by  the 
earl's  death-stroke  than  the  circumstances  preceding  it, 
was  such  as  defies  description.  With  Godwin's  old  com- 
rades in  arms,  it  was  simple  and  honest  grief;  but  with 
all  those  under  the  influence  of  the  priests,  the  event  was 
regarded  as  a  direct  punishment  from  Heaven.  The 
previous  words  of  the  king,  repeated  by  Edward  to  his 
monks,  circulated  from  lip  to  lip,  with  sundry  exaggera- 
tions as  it  travelled  :  and  the  superstition  of  the  day  had 
the  more  excuse,  inasmuch  as  the  speech  of  Godwin 
touched  near  upon  the  defiance  of  one  of  the  most  popular 
ordeals  of  the  accused, — viz.  that  called  the  "corsned," 
in  which  a  piece  of  bread  was  given  to  the  supposed 
criminal :  if  he  swallowed  it  with  ease,  he  was  innocent ; 
if  it  stuck  in  his  throat,  or  choked  him,  nay,  if  he  shook 
and  turned  pale,  he  was  guilty.  Godwin's  words  had 
appeared  to  invite  the  ordeal,  God  had  heard  and  stricken 
down  the  presumptuous  perjurer  I 

Unconscious,  happily,  of  these  attempts  to  blacken  the 
name  of  his  dying  father,  Harold,  towards  the  grey  dawn 

•'*■  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  i.  p.  472.  f  Fosbrooke. 


HAROLD.  261 

succeeding  the  fifth  night,  thought  that  he  heard  Godwin 
stir  in  his  bed.  So  he  put  aside  the  curtain,  and  bent 
over  him.  The  old  earl's  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  the 
red  color  had  gone  from  his  cheeks,  so  that  he  was  pale 
as  death. 

"How  fares  it,  dear  father?"  asked  Harold. 

Godwin  smiled  fondly,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  his 
voice  died  in  a  convulsive  rattle.  Lifting  himself  up, 
however,  with  an  effort,  he  pressed  tenderly  the  hand 
that  clasped  his  own,  leant  his  head  on  Harold's  breast, 
and  so  gave  up  the  ghost. 

When  Harold  was  at  last  aware  that  the  struggle  was 
over,  he  laid  the  grey  head  gently  on  the  pillow  ;  he  closed 
the  eyes,  and  kissed  the  lips,  and  knelt  down  and  prayed. 
Then,  seating  himself  at  a  little  distance,  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  mantle. 

At  this  time  his  brother  Gurth,  who  had  chiefly  shared 
watch  with  Harold,  —  for  Tostig,  foreseeing  his  father's 
death,  was  busy  soliciting  thegn  and  earl  to  support  his 
own  claims  to  the  earldom  about  to  be  vacant ;  and 
Leofwine  had  gone  to  London  on  the  previous  day  to 
summon  Githa,  who  was  hourly  expected  —  Gurth,  I  say, 
entered  the  room  on  tiptoe,  and  seeing  his  brother's 
attitude,  guessed  that  all  was  over.  He  passed  on  to  the 
table,  took  up  the  lamp,  and  looked  long  on  his  father's 
face.  That  strange  smile  of  the  dead,  common  alike  to 
innocent  and  guilty,  had  already  settled  on  the  serene 
lips  ;  and  that  no  less  strange  transformation  from  age  to 
youth,  when  the  wrinkles  vanish,  and  the  features  come 


2G2  HAROLD. 

out  Clear  and  sharp  from  the  hollows  of  care  and  years, 
had  already  begun.  And  the  old  man  seemed  sleeping 
in  his  prime. 

iSo  Gurth  kissed  the  dead,  as  Harold  had  done  before 
him,  and  came  up  and  sate  himself  by  his  brother's  feet, 
and  rested  his  head  on  Harold's  knee ;  nor  would  he 
speak  till,  appalled  by  the  long  silence  of  the  earl,  he 
drew  away  the  mantle  from  his  brother's  face  with  a 
gentle  hand,  and  the  large  tears  were  rolling  down 
Harold's  cheeks. 

"Be  soothed,  my  brother,"  said  Gurth;  "our  father 
has  lived  for  glory,  his  age  was  prosperous,  and  his  years 
more  than  those  which  the  Psalmist  allots  to  man.  Come 
and  look  on  his  face,  Harold  ;  its  calm  will  comfort  thee." 

Harold  obeyed  the  hand  that  led  him  like  a  child ;  in 
passing  towards  the  bed,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  cyst  which 
Hilda  had  given  to  the  old  earl,  and  a  chill  shot  through 
his  veins. 

"  Gurth,"  said  he,  "  is  not  this  the  morning  of  the  sixth 
day  in  which  we  have  been  at  the  king's  court  ?  " 

"It  is  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day." 

Then  Harold  took  forth  the  key  which  Hilda  had  given 
him,  and  unlocked  the  cyst,  —  and  there  lay  the  white 
winding-sheet  of  the  dead,  and  a  scroll.  Harold  took 
the  scroll,  and  bent  over  it,  reading  by  the  mingled  light 
of  the  lamp  and  the  dawn  :  — 

"All  hail,  Harold,  heir  of  Godwin  the  great,  and  Githa 
the  king-born  I  Thou  hast  obeyed  Hilda,  and  thou  know- 
est  now  that  Hilda's  eyes  read  the  future,  and  her  lips 


HAROLD.  263 

speak  the  dark  words  of  truth.  Bow  thy  heart  to  the 
Yala,  and  mistrust  the  wisdom  that  sees  only  the  things 
of  the  day-light.  As  the  valor  of  the  warrior  and  the 
song  of  the  scald,  so  is  the  lore  of  the  prophetess.  It 
is  not  of  the  body,  it  is  soul  within  soul ;  it  marshals 
events  and  men,  like  the  Yala  —  it  moulds  the  air  into 
substance,  like  the  song.  Bow  thy  heart  to  the  Yala. 
Flowers  bloom  over  the  grave  of  the  dead.  And  the 
young  plant  soars  high,  when  the  king  of  the  woodland 
lies  low  ! " 


CHAPTER   YI. 

The  sun  rose,  and  the  stairs  and  passages  without  were 
filled  with  the  crowds  that  pressed  to  hear  news  of  the 
earl's  health.  The  doors  stood  open,  and  Gurth  led  in 
the  multitude  to  look  their  last  on  the  hero  of  council 
and  camp,  who  had  restored  with  strong  hand  and  wise 
brain  the  race  of  Cerdic  to  the  Saxon  throne.  Harold 
stood  by  the  bed-head  silent,  and  tears  were  shed  and  sobs 
were  heard.  And  many  a  thegn  who  had  before  half 
believed  in  the  guilt  of  Godwin  as  the  murderer  of  Al- 
fred, whispered  in  gasps  to  his  neighbor, — 

"  There  is  no  weregeld  for  man-slaying  on  the  head  of 
him,  who  smiles  so  in  death  on  his  old  comrades  in  life  ! " 

Last  of  all  lingered  Leofric,  the  great  earl  of  Mercia  ; 
and  when  the  rest  had  departed,  he  took  the  pale  hand, 
that  lay  heavy  on  the  coverlid,  in  his  own,  and  said  — 


264  HAROLD. 

"  Old  foe,  often  stood  we  in  Witan  and  field  against 
each  other;  but  few  are  the  friends  for  whom  Leofric 
would  mourn  as  he  mourns  for  thee.  Peace  to  thy  soul ! 
Whatever  its  sins,  England  should  judge  thee  mildly,  for 
England  beat  in  each  pulse  of  thy  heart,  and  with  thy 
greatness  was  her  own  I " 

Then  Harold  stole  round  the  bed,  and  put  his  arms 
round  Leofric's  neck,  and  embraced  him.  The  good  old 
earl  was  touched,  and  he  laid  his  tremulous  hands  on 
Harold's  brown  locks  and  blessed  him. 

"Harold,"  he  said,  "thou  succeedest  to  thy  father's 
power  :  let  thy  father's  foes  be  thy  friends.  Wake  from 
thy  grief,  for  thy  country  now  demands  thee, — the  honor 
of  thy  House,  and  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Many  even 
now  plot  against  thee  and  thine.  Seek  the  king,  demand 
as  thy  right  thy  father's  earldom,  and  Leofric  will  back 
thy  claim  in  the  Witan." 

Harold  pressed  Leofric's  hand,  and  raising  it  to  his 
lips  replied  —  "Be  our  houses  at  peace  henceforth  and 
for  ever  1 " 

Tostig's  vanity  indeed  misled  him,  when  he  dreamed 
that  any  combination  of  Godwin's  party  could  meditate 
supporting  his  claims  against  the  popular  Harold  —  nor 
less  did  the  monks  deceive  themselves,  when  they  sup- 
posed, that  with  Godwin's  death,  the  power  of  his  family 
would  fall. 

There  was  more  than  even  the  unanimity  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  Witan,  in  favor  of  Harold  ;  there  was  that  univer- 
sal noiseless  impression  throughout  all  England,  Danish 


HAROLD.  265 

and  Saxon,  that  Harold  was  now  the  sole  man  on  whom 
rested  the  state  —  which,  whenever  it  so  favors  one  indi- 
vidual, is  irresistible.  Nor  was  Edward  himself  hostile 
to  Harold,  whom  alone  of  that  House,  as  we  have  before 
said,  he  esteemed  and  loved. 

Harold  was  at  once  named  Earl  of  Wessex ;  and  re- 
linquishing the  earldom  he  held  before,  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate as  to  the  successor  to  be  recommended  in  his  place. 
Conquering  all  jealousy  and  dislike  for  Algar,  he  united 
the  strength  of  his  party  in  favor  of  the  son  of  Leofric, 
and  the  election  fell  upon  him.  With  all  his  hot  errors, 
the  claims  of  no  other  earl,  whether  from  his  own  capa- 
cities or  his  father's  services,  were  so  strong ;  and  his 
election  probably  saved  the  state  from  a  great  danger,  in 
the  results  of  that  angry  mood  and  that  irritated  ambi- 
tion with  which  he  had  thrown  himself  into  the  arms  of 
England's  most  valiant  aggressor,  Gryffyth,  king  of  North 
Wales. 

To  outward  appearance,  by  this  election,  the  House 
of  Leofric  —  uniting  in  father  and  son  the  two  mighty 
districts  of  Mercia  and  the  East  Anglians — became  more 
powerful  than  that  of  Godwin  ;  for,  in  that  last  House, 
Harold  was  now  only  the  possessor  of  one  of  the  great 
earldoms,  and  Tostig  and  the  other  brothers  had  no  other 
provision  beyond  the  comparatively  insignificant  lordships 
they  held  before.  But  if  Harold  had  ruled  no  earldom 
at  all,  he  had  still  been  immeasurably  the  first  man  in 
England  —  so  great  was  the  confidence  reposed  in  his 

I.— 23 


266  HAROLD. 

valor  and  wisdom.  He  was  of  that  height  in  himself, 
that  he  needed  no  pedestal  to  stand  on. 

The  successor  of  the  first  great  founder  of  a  House 
succeeds  to  more  than  his  predecessor's  power,  if  he  but 
know  how  to  wield  and  maintain  it ;  for  who  makes  his 
way  to  greatness  without  raising  foes  at  every  step  ?  and 
who  ever  rose  to  power  supreme,  without  grave  cause  for 
blame  ?  But  Harold  stood  free  from  the  enmities  his 
father  had  provoked,  and  pure  from  the  stains  that  slan- 
der or  repute  cast  upon  his  father's  name.  The  sun  of 
the  yesterday  had  shone  through  cloud ;  the  sun  of  the 
day  rose  in  a  clear  firmament.  Even  Tostig  recognized 
the  superiority  of  his  brother ;  and,  after  a  strong  strug- 
gle between  baffled  rage  and  covetous  ambition,  yielded 
to  him,  as  to  a  father.  He  felt  that  all  Godwin's  house 
was  centered  in  Harold  alone ;  and  that  only  from  his 
brother  (despite  his  own  daring  valor,  and  despite  his 
alliance  with  the  blood  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred, 
through  the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  Norman  duchess), 
could  his  avarice  of  power  be  gratified. 

"  Depart  to  thy  home,  my  brother,"  said  Earl  Harold 
to  Tostig,  "  and  grieve  not  that  Algar  is  preferred  to 
thee ;  for,  even  had  his  claim  been  less  urgent,  ill  would 
it  have  beseemed  us  to  arrogate  the  lordships  of  all  Eng- 
land as  our  dues.  Kule  thy  lordship  with  wisdom  ;  gain 
the  love  of  thy  lithsmen.  High  claims  hast  thou  in  our 
father's  name,  and  moderation  now  will  but  strengthen 
thee  in  the  season  to  come.  Trust  on  Harold  somewhat, 
on  thyself  more.     Thou  hast  but  to  add  temper  and  judg- 


HAROLD.  2G7 

meiit  to  valor  and  zeal,  to  be  worthy  mate  of  the  first  earl 
in  England.  Over  my  father's  corpse  I  embraced  my 
father's  foe.  Between  brother  and  brother  shall  there 
not  be  love,  as  the  best  bequest  of  the  dead  ? " 

"  It  shall  not  be  my  fault,  if  there  be  not,"  answered 
Tostig,  humbled  though  chafed.  And  he  summoned  his 
men  and  returned  to  his  domains. 


CHAPTER    YII. 

Fair,  broad,  and  calm  set  the  sun  over  the  western 
woodlands ;  and  Hilda  stood  on  the  mound,  and  looked 
with  undazzled  eyes  on  the  sinking  orb.  Beside  her, 
Edith  reclined  on  the  sward,  and  seemed,  with  idle  hand, 
tracing  characters  in  the  air.  The  girl  had  grown  paler 
still,  since  Harold  last  parted  from  her  on  the  same  spot, 
and  the  same  listless  and  despondent  apathy  stamped  her 
smileless  lips  and  her  bended  head. 

"  See,  child  of  my  heart,"  said  Hilda,  addressing  Edith, 
while  she  still  gazed  on  the  western  luminary,  "  see,  the 
sun  goes  down  to  the  far  deeps,  where  Rana  and  JEgir  * 
watch  over  the  worlds  of  the  sea ;  but  with  morning  he 

*^gir,  the  Scandinavian  god  of  the  ocean.  Not  one  of  the  Aser, 
or  Asas  (the  celestial  race),  but  sprung  from  the  giants.  Ban  or 
Rana,  his  wife,  a  more  malignant  character,  who  caused  ship- 
wrecks, and  drew  to  herself,  by  a  net,  all  that  fell  into  the  sea. 
The  offspring  of  this  marriage  were  nine  daughters,  who  became 
the  Billows,  the  Current?,  and  the  Storms. 


268  HAROLD. 

comes  from  the  halls  of  Asas  —  the  golden  gates  of  the 
East — and  joy  comes  in  his  train.  And  yet  thou  thinkest, 
sad  child,  whose  years  have  scarce  passed  into  woman, 
that  the  sun,  once  set,  never  comes  back  to  life  !  But 
even  while  we  speak,  thy  morning  draws  near,  and  the 
dunness  of  cloud  takes  the  hues  of  the  rose  ! " 

Edith's  hand  paused  from  its  vague  employment,  and 
fell  droopingly  on  her  knee  ; — she  turned  with  an  unquiet 
and  anxious  eye  to  Hilda,  and  after  looking  some  mo- 
ments wistfully  at  the  Yala,  the  color  rose  to  her  cheek, 
and  she  said  in  a  voice  that  had  an  accent  half  of  anger — 
'."Hilda,  thou  art  cruel  I  " 

*'  So  is  Fate  !  "  answered  the  Yala.  "  But  men  call 
not  Fate  cruel  when  it  smiles  on  their  desires.  Why 
callest  thou  Hilda  cruel,  when  she  reads  in  the  setting 
sun  the  runes  of  thy  coming  joy  I " 

"  There  is  no  joy  for  me,"  returned  Edith,  plaintively  ; 
"  and  I  have  that  on  my  heart,"  she  added,  with  a  sudden 
and  almost  fierce  change  of  tone,  "  which  at  last  I  will 
dare  to  speak.  I  reproach  thee,  Hilda,  that  thou  hast 
marred  all  my  life,  that  thou  hast  duped  me  with  dreams, 
and  left  me  alone  in  despair." 

"  Speak  on,"  said  Hilda,  calmly,  as  a  nurse  to  a  fro- 
ward  child. 

"  Hast  thou  not  told  me,  from  the  first  dawn  of  my 
wondering  reason,  that  my  life  and  lot  were  inwoven  with 
—  with  (the  word,  mad  and  daring,  must  out)  with  those 
of  Harold  the  peerless  ?  But  for  that,  which  my  infancy 
took  from  thy  lips  as  a  law,  I  had  neyer  been  so  vain  and 


HAROLD.  ;2C9 

SO  frantic !  I  had  never  watched  each  play  of  his  face, 
aud  treasured  each  word  from  his  lips  ;  I  had  never  made 
my  life  but  a  part  of  his  life — all  my  soul  but  the  shadow 
of  his  sun.  But  for  that,  I  had  hailed  the  calm  of  the 
cloister  —  but  for  that,  I  had  glided  in  peace  to  my  grave. 
And  now  —  now,  0  Hilda — ''  Edith  paused,  and  that 
break  had  more  eloquence  than  any  words  she  could  com- 
mand. "And,"  she  resumed  quickly,  "thou  knowest 
that  these  hopes  were  but  dreams  —  that  the  la\Y  ever 
stood  between  him  and  me — and  that  it  was  guilt  to  love 
him." 

"I  knew  the  law,"  answered  Hilda,  "but  the  law  of 
fools  is  to  the  wise  as  the  cobweb  swung  over  the  brake 
to  the  wing  of  the  bird.  Ye  are  sibbe  to  each  other, 
some  five  times  removed ;  and,  therefore,  an  old  ma»  at 
Rome  saith,  that  ye  ought  not  to  wed.  When  the  shave- 
lings obey  the  old  man  at  Rome,  and  put  aside  their  own 
wives  and  frillas,*  and  abstain  from  the  wine-cup,  and 
the  chase,  and  the  brawl,  I  will  stoop  to  hear  of  their 
laws,  —  with  disrelish  it  may  be,  but  without  scorn,  f  It 
is  no  sin  to  love  Harold  ;  and  no  monk  and  no  law  shall 

*  Frilla,  the  Danish  word  for  a  lady  who,  often  with  tlie  wife's 
consent,  was  added  to  the  domestic  circle  by  the  husband.  The 
word  is  here  used  by  Hilda  in  a  general  sense  of  reproach.  Both 
marriage  and  concubinage  were  common  amongst  the  Anglo-Saxon 
priesthood,  despite  the  unheeded  canons;  and  so,  indeed,  they  were 
with  the  French  clergy. 

f  Hilda,  not  only  as  a  heathen,  but  as  a  Dane,  would  be  no  favorer 
of  monks.  They  were  unknown  in  Denmark  at  that  time,  an!  the 
Danes  held  them  in  odium.  —  Ord.   Vital,  lib.  vii. 

23* 


210  HAROLD. 

prevent  your  union  on  the  day  appointed  to  bring  ye 
together,  form  and  heart." 

"  Hilda !  Hilda  I  madden  me  not  with  joy,"  cried 
Edith,  starting  up  in  rapturous  emotion,  her  young  face 
dyed  with  blushes,  and  all  her  renovated  beauty  so  celes- 
tial that  Hilda  herself  was  almost  awed,  as  if  by  the  vision 
of  Freya,  the  northern  Yenus,  charmed  by  a  spell  from 
the  halls  of  Asgard. 

*'  But  that  day  is  distant,"  renewed  the  Yala. 

"  What  matters  !  w'hat  matters  I "  cried  the  pure  child 
of  Nature  ;  "  I  ask  but  hope.  Enough,  —  oh  I  enough, 
if  we  were  but  wedded  on  the  borders  of  the  grave  I  " 

"Lo,  then,"  said  Hilda,  "behold,  the  sun  of  thy  life 
dawns  again  I '' 

As  she  spoke,  the  Yala  stretched  her  arm,  and,  through 
the  intersticed  columns  of  the  fane,  Edith  saw  the  large 
shadow  of  a  man  cast  over  the  still  sward.  Presently  into 
the  space  of  the  circle  came  Harold,  her  beloved.  His 
face  was  pale  with  grief  yet  recent ;  but,  perhaps,  more 
than  ever,  dignity  was  in  his  step  and  command  on  his 
brow,  for  he  felt  that  now  alone  with  him  rested  the  might 
of  Saxon  England.  And  what  royal  robe  so  invests  with 
imperial  majesty  the  form  of  man  as  the  grave  sense  of 
power  responsible,  in  an  earnest  soul  ? 

•'  Thou  comest,"  said  Hilda,  "in  the  hour  I  predicted  ; 
at  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the  rising  of  the  star." 

"  Yala,"  said  Harold,  gloomily,  "  I  will  not  oppose  my 
sense  to  thy  propliecies  ;  for  who  shall  judge  of  that 
power  of  which  he  knows  not  the  elements  ?  or  despise 


HAROLD.  271 

the  marvel  of  which  he  cannot  detect  the  imposture  ? 
But  leave  me,  I  pray  thee,  to  walk  in  the  broad  light  of 
the  common  day.  These  hands  are  made  to  grapple  with 
things  palpable,  and  these  eyes  to  measure  the  forms  that 
front  my  way.  In  my  youth,  I  turned  in  despair  or  dis- 
gust from  the  subtleties  of  the  schoolmen,  which  split 
upon  hairs  the  brains  of  Lombard  and  Frank  ;  in  my 
busy  and  stirring  manhood,  entangle  me  not  in  the  meshes 
which  confuse  all  my  reason,  and  sicken  my  waking 
thoughts  into  dreams  of  awe.  Mine  be  the  straight  path 
and  the  plain  goal  I " 

The  Yala  gazed  on  him  with  an  earnest  look,  that  par- 
took of  admiration,  and  yet  more  of  gloom  ;  but  she 
spoke  not,  and  Harold  resumed. — 

"Let  the  dead  rest,  Hilda  —  proud  names  with  glory 
on  earth,  and  shadows  escaped  from  our  ken,  submissive 
to  mercy  in  heaven.  A  vast  chasm  have  my  steps  over- 
leapt  since  we  met,  0  Hilda  —  sweet  Edith  ;  —  a  vast 
chasm,  but  a  narrow  grave."  His  voice  faltered  a  mo- 
ment, and  again  he  renewed  :  —  "  Thou  weepest,  Edith  ; 
ah,  how  thy  tears  console  me  !  Hilda,  hear  me  !  I  love 
thy  grandchild  —  loved  her  by  irresistible  instinct  since 
her  blue  eyes  first  smiled  on  mine.  I  loved  her  in  her 
childhood,  as  in  her  youth  —  in  the  blossom  as  in  the 
flower ;  and  thy  grandchild  loves  me.  The  laws  of  the 
Church  proscribe  our  marriage,  and  therefore  we  parted  ; 
but  I  feel,  and  thine  Edith  feels,  that  the  love  remains  as 
strong  in  absence  :  no  other  will  be  her  wedded  lord,  no 
other  my  wedded  wife.     Therefore,  with  a  heart  made 


'2i2,  HAROLD. 

soft  by  sorrow,  and,  in  my  father's  death,  sole  lord  of  my 
f!fte,  I  return,  and  say  to  thee  in  her  presence,  *  Suffer  us 
to  hope  still ! '  The  day  may  come,  when  under  some 
king  less  enthralled  than  Edward  by  formal  Church  laws, 
we  may  obtain  from  the  Pope  absolution  for  our  nuptials, 
—  a  day,  perhaps,  far  off;  but  we  are  both  young,  and 
love  is  strong  and  patient:  we  can  wait." 

'iO  Harold,"  exclaimed  Edith,  "we  can  wait!" 
"  Have  I  not  told  thee,  son  of  Godwin,"  said  the  Yala, 
solemnly,  "  that  Edith's  skein  of  life  was  enwoven  with 
thine  ?  Dost  thou  deem  that  my  charms  have  not  ex- 
plored the  destiny  of  the  last  of  my  race  ?  Know  that 
it  is  in  the  decrees  of  the  fates  that  ye  are  to  be  united, 
never  more  to  be  divided.  Know  that  there  shall  come 
a  day,  though  I  can  see  not  its  morrow,  and  it  lies  dim 
and  afar,  which  shall  be  the  most  glorious  of  thy  life, 
and  on  which  Edith  and  fame  shall  be  thine, — the  day  of 
thy  nativity,  on  which  hitherto  all  things  have  prospered 
with  thee.  In  vain  against  the  stars  preach  the  mone 
and  the  priest :  what  shall  be,  shall  be.  Wherefore,  take 
hope  and  joy,  0  Children  of  Time  !  And  now,  as  I  join 
your  hands,  I  betroth  your  souls." 

Rapture  unalloyed  and  unprophetic,  born  of  love  deep 
and  pure,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  Harold,  as  he  clasped  the 
hand  of  his  promised  bride.  But  an  involuntary  and 
mysterious  shudder  passed  over  Edith's  frame,  and  she 
leant  close,  close,  for  support  upon  Harold's  breast. 
And,  as  if  by  a  vision,  there  rose  distinct  in  her  memory, 
a  stern  brow,  a  form  of  power  and  terror — the  brow  and 


HAROLD.  273 

the  form  of  him  who  but  once  again  in  her  waking  life 
the  Prophetess  had  told  her  she  should  behold.  The 
vision  passed  away  in  the  warm  clasp  of  those  protect- 
ing arms ;  and  looking  up  into  Harold's  face,  she  there 
beheld  the  mighty  and  deep  delight  that  transfused  itself 
at  once  into  her  own  soul 

Then  Hilda,  placing  one  hand  over  their  heads,  and 
raising  the  other  towards  heaven,  all  radiant  with  burst- 
ing stars,  said  in  her  deep  and  thrilling  tones, — 

"Attest  the  betrothal  of  these  young  hearts,  0  ye 
Powers  that  draw  nature  to  nature  by  spells  which  no 
galdra  can  trace,  and  have  wrought  in  the  secrets  of 
creation  no  mystery  so  perfect  as  love.  —  Attest  it,  thou 
temple,  thou  altar  !  —  attest  it,  0  sun  and  0  air  !  While 
the  forms  are  divided,  may  the  souls  cling  together — sor- 
row with  sorrow,  and  joy  with-joy.  And  when,  at  length, 
bride  and  bridegroom  are  one, — 0  stars,  may  the  trouble 
with  which  ye  are  charged  have  exhausted  its  burthen  ; 
may  no  danger  molest,  and  no  malice  disturb,  but,  over 
the  marriage-bed,  shine  in  peace,  0  ye  stars  !  " 

Up  rose  the  moon.  May's  nightingale  called  its  mate 
from  the  breathless  boughs  ;  and  so  Edith  and  Harold 
were  betrothed  by  the  grave  of  the  son  of  Cerdic.  And 
from  the  line  of  Cerdic  had  come,  since  Ethelbert,  all  the 
Saxon  kings  who  with  sword  and  with  sceptre  had  reigned 
over  Saxon  England. 


BOOK   SIXTH 


AMBITION 


CHA'PTER   I. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  in  England.  King  Edward 
had  been  induced  to  send  Aired  the  prelate*  to  the  court 
of  the  German  Emperor,  for  his  kinsman  and  namesake, 
Edward  Atheling,  the  son  of  the  great  Ironsides.  In  his 
childhood,  this  prince,  with  his  brother  Edmund,  had 
been  committed  by  Canute  to  the  charge  of  his  vassal, 
the  King  of  Sweden  ;  and  it  has  been  said  (though  with- 
out sufficient  authority),  that  Canute's  design  was,  that 
they  should  be  secretly  made  away  with.  The  King  of 
Sweden,  however,  forwarded  the  children  to  the  court  of 
Hungary;  they  were  there  honorably  reared  and  received. 
Edmund  died  young,  without  issue.  Edward  married  a 
daughter  of  the  German  Emperor,  and  during  the  com- 
motions in  England,  and  the  successive  reigns  of  Harold 
Harefoot,  Hardicanute,  and  the  Confessor,  had  remained 
orgotten  in  his  exile,  until  now  suddenly  recalled  to 


*  Chron.  Knvghton. 

(274) 


HAROLD.  2T5 

England  as  the  heir  presumptive  of  his  childless  name- 
sake. He  arrived  with  Agatha  his  wife,  one  infant  son, 
Edgar,  and  two  daughters,  Margaret  and  Christina. 

Great  were  the  rejoicings.  The  vast  crowd  that  had 
followed  the  royal  visitors  in  their  procession  to  the  old 
London  palace  (not  far  from  St.  Paul's),  in  which  they 
were  lodged,  yet  swarmed  through  the  streets,  when  two 
thegns  who  had  personally  accompanied  the  Atheling 
from  Dover,  and  had  just  taken  leave  of  him,  now  emerged 
from  the  palace,  and  with  some  difiBculty  made  their  way 
through  the  crowded  streets. 

The  one  in  the  dress  and  short  hair  imitated  from  the 
Norman,  was  our  old  friend  Godrith,  whom  the  reader 
may  remember  as  the  rebuker  of  Taillefer,  and  the  friend 
of  Mallet  de  Graville  ;  the  other,  in  a  plain  linen  Saxon 
tunic,  and  the  gonna  worn  on  state  occasions,  to  which 
he  seemed  unfamiliar,  but  with  heavy  gold  bracelets  on 
his  arms,  long  haired  and  bearded,  was  Yebba,  the 
Kentish  thegn,  who  had  served  as  nuncius  from  Godwin 
to  Edward. 

"  Troth  and  faith  ! "  said  Yebba,  wiping  his  brow, 
"this  crowd  is  enow^  to  make  plain  man  stark  wode.  I 
would  not  live  in  London  for  all  the  gauds  in  the  gold- 
smiths' shops,  or  all  the  treasures  in  King  Edward's 
vaults.  My  tongue  is  as  parched  as  a  hay-field  in  the 
weyd-month.*  Holy  Mother  be  blessed  !  I  see  a  cumen- 
hus-f  open  ;  let  us  in  and  refresh  ourselves  with  a  horn 
of  ale." 

*  Weyd-monih.  Meadow-month,  June.      f  Cumen-hus.  Tavern. 


276  HAROLD. 

"  Nay,  friend,"  quoth  Godrith,  with  a  slight  disdain, 
*'siich  are  not  the  resorts  of  men  of  our  rank.  Tarry 
yet  awhile,  till  we  arrive  near  the  bridge  by  the  river 
side ;  there,  indeed,  you  will  find  worthy  company  and 
dainty  cheer." 

"Well,  well,  I  am  at  your  hest,  Godrith,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  sighing  :  "my  wife  and  my  sons  will  be  sure 
to  ask  me  what  sights  I  have  seen,  and  I  may  as  well 
know  from  thee  the  last  tricks  and  ways  of  this  hurly- 
burly  town." 

Godrith,  who  was  master  of  all  the  fashions  in  the 
reign  of  our  lord  King  Edward,  smiled  graciously,  and 
the  two  proceeded  in  silence,  only  broken  by  the  sturdy 
Kent  man's  exclamations  ;  now  of  anger  when  rudely 
jostled,  now  of  wonder  and  delight  when,  amidst  the 
throng,  he  caught  sight  of  a  glee-man,  with  his  bear  or 
monkey,  who  took  advantage  of  some  space  near  con- 
vent garden,  or  Roman  ruin,  to  exhibit  his  craft ;  till 
they  gained  a  long  low  row  of  booths,  most  pleasantly 
situated  to  the  left  of  this  side  London  bridge,  and  which 
was  appropriated  to  the  celebrated  cook-shops,  that  even 
to  the  time  of  Fitzstephen  retained  their  fame  and  their 
fashion. 

Between  the  shops  and  the  river,  was  a  space  of  grass 
worn  brown  and  bare  by  the  feet  of  the  customers,  with 
a  few  clipped  trees  with  vines  trained  from  one  to  the 
other  in  arcades,  under  cover  of  which  were  set  tables 
and  settles.  The  place  was  thickly  crowded,  and  but  for 
Godrith's  popularity  amongst  the  attendants,  they  might 
have  found  it  difficult  to  obtain  accommodation.     IIow- 


HAROLD.  277 

ever,  a  new  table  was  soon  brought  forth,  placed  close 
by  the  cool  margin  of  the  water,  and  covered  in  a  trice 
with  tankards  of  hippocras,  pigment,  ale,  and  some  Gas- 
con, as  well  as  British  wines ;  varieties  of  the  delicious 
cake-bread  for  which  England  was  then  renowned  ;  while 
viands  strange  to  the  honest  eye  and  taste  of  the  wealthy 
Kent  man,  were  served  on  spits. 

"  What  bird  is  this  ?  "  said  he,  grumbling. 

"  Oh,  enviable  man,  it  is  a  Phrygian  attagen  *  that 
thou  art  about  to  taste  for  the  first  time  ;  and  when  thou 
hast  recovered  that  delight,  I  commend  to  thee  a  Moorish 
compound,  made  of  eggs  and  roes  of  carp  from  the  old 
Southweorc  stewponds,  which  the  cooks  here  dress  no- 
tably." 

*'  Moorish  !  —  Holy  Yirgin  ! "  cried  Yebba,  with  his 
mouth  full  of  the  Phrygian  attagen,  "how came  anything 
Moorish  in  our  Christian  island  ? " 

Godrith  laughed  outright. 

"  Why,  our  cook  here  is  Moorish  ;  the  best  singers  in 
Loudon  are  Moors.  Look  yonder !  see  those  grave 
comely  Saracens  ?  " 

"  Comely,  quotha,  burnt  and  black  as  a  charred  pine- 
pole  ! "  grunted  Yebba  ;   "  well,  who  are  they  ?  " 

"  Wealthy  traders ;  thanks  to  whom,  our  pretty  maids 
have  risen  high  in  the  market,  "f 

*  Fitzstephen. 

f  William  of  Malmesburj  speaks  with  just  indignation  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  custom  of  selling  female  servants,  either  to  public 
prostitution  or  foreign  slavery. 

L— 24 


278  HAROLD. 

"More  the  shame,"  said  the  Kent  man  ;  "that  selling 
of  English  youth  to  foreign  masters,  whether  male  or 
female,  is  a  blot  on  the  Saxon  name." 

"  So  saith  Harold  our  Earl,  and  so  preach  the  monks," 
returned  Godrith.  "  But  thou,  my  good  friend,  who  art 
fond  of  all  things  that  our  ancestors  did,  and  hast  sneered 
more  than  once  at  my  Norman  robe  and  cropped  hair, 
thou  shouldst  not  be  the  one  to  find  fault  with  what  our 
fathers  have  done  since  the  days  of  Cerdic." 

"Hem,"  said  the  Kent  man,  a  little  perplexed,  "cer- 
tainly old  manners  are  the  best,  and  I  suppose  there  is 
some  good  reason  for  this  practice,  which  I,  who  never 
trouble  myself  about  matters  that  concern  me  not,  do  not 
see." 

"Well,  Yebba,  and  how  likest  thou  the  Atheling  ?  he 
is  of  the  old  line,"  said  Godrith. 

Again  the  Kent  man  looked  perplexed,  and  had  re- 
course to  the  ale,  which  he  preferred  to  all  more  delicate 
liquor,  before  he  replied  — 

"  Why,  he  speaks  English  worse  than  King  Edward  1 
and  as  for  his  boy  Edgar,  the  child  can  scarce  speak  Eng:- 
lish  at  all.  And  then  their  German  carles  and  cnehts  I 
— An'  I  had  known  what  manner  of  folk  they  were,  I  had 
not  spent  ray  mancuses  in  running  from  my  homestead  to 
give  them  the  welcome.  But  they  told  me  that  Harold 
the  good  Earl  had  made  the  king  send  for  them  ;  and 
whatever  the  earl  counselled,  must  I  thought  be  wise,  and 
to  the  weal  of  sweet  England." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Godrith  with  earnest  emphasis, 


HAROLD.  279 

for,  with  all  his  affectation  of  Norrriiln  manners,  he  was 
thoroughly  English  at  heart,  and  was  now  among  the 
staunchest  supporters  of  Harold,  who  had  become  no  less 
the  pattern  and  pride  of  the  young  nobles  than  the  dar- 
ling of  the  humbler  population,  —  "that  is  true  —  and 
Harold  showed  us  his  noble  English  heart  when  he  so 
urged  the  king  to  his  own  loss.-' 

As  Godrith  thus  spoke,  nay,  from  the  first  mention  of 
Harold's  name,  two  men  richly  clad,  but  with  their  bon- 
nets drawn  far  over  their  brows,  and  their  long  gonnas 
so  worn  as  to  hide  their  forms,  who  were  seated  at  a  table 
behind  Godrith  and  had  thus  escaped  his  attention,  had 
paused  from  their  wine-cups,  and  they  now  listened  with 
much  earnestness  to  the  conversation  that  followed. 

"  How  to  the  earl's  loss  ? "  asked  Yebba. 

"Why,  simple  thegn,"  answered  Godrith,  "why,  sup- 
pose that  Edward  had  refused  to  acknowledge  thte  Athel- 
ing  as  his  heir,  suppose  the  Atheling  had  remained  in  the 
German  court,  and  our  good  king  died  sucldenly,  —  who, 
thinkest  thou,  could  succeed  to  the  English  throne  ?" 

"Marry,  I  have  never  thought  of  that  at  all,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  scratching  his  head. 

"No,  nor  have  the  English  generally;  yet  whom  could 
we  choose  but  Harold?" 

A  sudden  start  from  one  of  the  listeners  was  checked 
by  the  warning  finger  of  the  other;  and  the  Kent  man 
exclaimed  — 

"  Body  o'  me  !  But  we  have  never  chosen  king  (save 
the  Danes)  out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic.     These  be  new 


280  HAROLD. 

cranks,  with  a  vengeance  :  we  shall  be  choosing  German, 
or  Saracen,  or  Norman  next." 

"  Out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic  I  but  that  line  is  gone, 
root  and  branch,  save  the  Atheling,  and  he,  thou  seest, 
is  more  German  than  English.  Again  I  say,  failing  the 
Atheling,  whom  could  we  choose  but  Harold,  brother-in- 
law  to  the  king  ;  descended  through  Githa  from  the  royal- 
ties of  the  Norse,  the  head  of  all  armies  under  the  Herr- 
ban,  the  chief  who  has  never  fought  without  victory,  yet 
who  has  always  preferred  conciliation  to  conquest  —  the 
first  counsellor  in  the  Witan  —  the  first  man  in  the  realm 
—  who  but  Harold?  answer  me,  staring  Vebba." 

"  I  take  in  thy  words  slowly,"  said  the  Kent  man, 
shaking  his  head,  "  and  after  all,  it  matters  little  who  is 
king,  so  he  be  a  good  one.  Yes,  I  see  now  that  the  earl 
was  a  just  and  generous  man  when  he  made  the  king 
send  for  the  Atheling.  Drink-hsel !  long  life  to  them 
both  ! " 

"Was-hael,"  answered  Godrith,  draining  his  hippocras 
to  Yebba's  more  potent  ale.  "  Long  life  to  them  both  I 
may  Edward  the  Atheling  reign,  but  Harold  the  Earl 
rule  1  Ah,  then,  indeed,  we  may  sleep  without  fear  of 
fierce  Algar  and  still  fiercer  Gryfi'yth  the  Walloon — who 
wow,  it  is  true,  are  stilled  for  the  moment,  thanks  to 
Harold  —  but  not  more  still  than  the  smooth  waters  iu 
G'wyned,  that  lie  just  above  the  rush  of  a  torrent."     ■ 

"So  little  news  hear  I,"  said  Yebba,  "and  in  Kent  so 
little  are  we  plagued  with  the  troubles  elsewhere  (for 
there  Harold  governs  us,  and  the  hawks  come  not  where 


HAROLD.  281 

the  eagles  hold  eyrie  !)— that  I  will  thaiik  thee  to  tell  me 
something  about  our  old  earl  for  a  year,*  Algar  the  rest- 
less, and  this  Gryffyth  the  Welch  king,  so  that  I  may 
seem  a  wise  man  when  I  go  back  to  my  homestead." 

"Why,  thou  knowest  at  least  that  Algar  and  Harold 
were  ever  opposed  in  the  Witan,  and  hot  words  thou  hast 
heard  pass  between  them?" 

"  Marry,  yes  !  But  Algar  was  as  little  match  for  Earl 
Harold  in  speech  as  in  sword-play," 

Now  again  one  of  the  listeners  started  (but  it  was  not 
the  same  as  the  one  before),  and  muttered  an  angry  ex- 
clamation. 

"Yet  is  he  a  troublesome  foe,"  said  Godrith,  who  did 
not  hear  the  sound  Yebba  had  provoked,  "  and  a  thorn 
in  the  side  both  of  the  earl  and  of  England  ;  and  sorrow- 
ful for  both  England  and  earl  was  it,  that  Harold  refused 
to  marry  Aldyth,  as  it  is  said  his  father,  wise  Godwin, 
counselled  and  wished." 

"Ah  !  but  I  have  heard  scops  and  harpers  sing  pretty 
songs  that  Harold  loves  Edith  the  Fair,  a  wondrous 
proper  maiden,  they  say  !  " 

"  It  is  true  ;  and  for  the  sake  of  his  love,  he  played  ill 
for  his  ambition." 

"I  like  him  the  better  for  that,"  said  the  honest  Kent 
man  :  "  why  does  he  not  marry  the  girl  at  once  ?  she 
hath  broad  lands  I  know,  for  they  run  from  the  Sussex 
shore  into  Kent." 

*  It  will  be  remembered    that  Algar   governed  Wessex,  which 
principality  included  Kent,  during  the  year  of  Godwin's  outlawry 
24* 


282  HAROLD. 

"But  they  are  cousins  five  times  removed,  and  the 
Church  forbids  the  marriage  ;  nevertheless  Harold  lives 
only  for  Edith ;  they  have  exchanged  the  true-lofa,*  and 
it  is  whispered  that  Harold  hopes  the  Atheling,  when  he 
comes  to  be  king,  will  get  him  the  pope's  dispensation. 
But  to  return  to  Algar ;  in  a  day  most  unlucky  he  gave 
his  daughter  to  Gryfifyth,  the  most  turbulent  sub-king  the 
land  ever  knew,  who,  it  is  said,  will  not  be  content  till  he 
has  won  all  Wales  for  himself  without  homage  or  service, 
and  the  Marches  to  boot.  Some  letters  between  him  and 
Earl  Algar,  to  whom  Harold  had  secured  the  earldom 
of  the  East  Angles,  were  discovered,  and  in  a  Witan  at 
Winchester  thou  wilt  doubtless  have  heard  (for  thou 
didst  not,  I  know,  leave  thy  lands  to  attend  it),  that 
Algar  "f  was  outlawed." 

*  Trulofa,  from  which  comes  our  popular  corruption  "  true 
lover's  knot,"  d  veteri  Danico  trulofa,  i.  e.  fidem  do,  to  pledge  faith. 
—  HiCKEs'  Thesaur. 

"A  knot,  among  the  ancient  northern  nations,  seems  to  have 
been  the  emblem  of  love,  faith,  and  friendship."  —  Brande's  Foj). 
Anliq. 

I  The  Saxon  Chronicle  contradicts  itself  as  to  Algar's  outlawry, 
stating  in  one  passage  that  he  was  outlawed  without  any  kind  of 
guilt,  and  in  another  that  he  was  outlawed  as  swike,  or  traitor,  and 
that  he  made  a  confession  of  it  before  all  the  men  there  gathered. 
His  treason,  however,  seems  naturally  occasioned  by  his  close  con- 
nection with  Gryffyth,  and  proved  by  his  share  in  that  king's  re- 
bellion. Some  of  our  historians  have  unfairly  assumed  that  his  out- 
lawry was  at  Harold's  instigation.  Of  this  there  is  not  only  no 
proof,  but  one  of  the  best  authorities  among  the  chroniclers  says 
just  the  contrary,  —  that  Harold  did  all  he  could  to  intercede  for 
him  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  he  was  fairly  tried  and  condemned  by 
the  Witan,  and  afterwards  restored  by  the  concurrent  articles  of 


HAROLD.  283 

"  Oh,  yes,  these  are  stale  tidings ;  I  heard  thus  much 
from  a  palmer  —  and  then  Algar  got  ships  from  the 
Irish,  sailed  to  North  Wales,  and  beat  Rolf,  the  Norman 
Earl,  at  Hereford.  Oh  yes,  I  heard  that,  and,"  added  the 
Kent  man  laughing,  ''I  was  not  sorry  to  hear  that  my  old 
Earl  Algar,  since  he  is  a  good  and  true  Saxon,  beat  the 
cowardly  Norman,  —  more  shame  to  the  king  for  giving 
a  Norman  the  ward  of  the  Marches  ! " 

"It  was  a  sore  defeat  to  the  king  and  to  England," 
said  Godrith,  gravely.  "  The  great  Minster  of  Hereford, 
built  by  King  Athelstan,  was  burned  and  sacked  by  the 
Welch  ;  and  the  Crown  itself  was  in  danger,  when  Harold 
came  up  at  the  head  of  the  Fyrd.  Hard  is  it  to  tell  the 
distress  and  the  marching  and  the  camping,  and  the 
travail,  and  destruction  of  men,  and  also  of  horses,  which 
the  English  endured  *  till  Harold  came ;  and  then, 
luckily,  came  also  the  good  old  Leofric,  and  Bishop 
Aired,  the  peace-maker,  and  so  strife  was  patched  up  — 
Gryffyth  swore  oaths  of  faith  to  King  Edward,  and  Algar 
was  inlawed ;  and  there  for  the  nonce  rests  the  matter 
now.  But  well  I  ween  that  Gryffyth  will  never  keep 
troth  with  the  English,  and  that  no  hand  less  strong  than 
Harold's  can  keep  in  check  a  spirit  as  fiery  as  Algar's : 
therefore  did  I  wish  that  Harold  might  be  king." 

"Well,"  quoth  the  honest  Kent  man,  "I  hope,  never- 

agreement  between  Harold  and  Leofric.     Harold's  policy  with  his 
own  countrymen  stands  out  very  markedly  prominent  in  the  annals 
of  the  time ;  it  was  invariably  that  of  conciliation. 
*  Saxon  Chron.,  verbatim. 


'2Si  HAROLD. 

theless,  that  Algar  will  sow  his  wild  oats,  and  leave  the 
Walloons  to  grow  the  hemp  for  their  own  halters ;  for, 
though  he  is  not  of  the  height  of  our  Harold,  he  is  a  true 
Saxon,  and  we  liked  him  well  enow  when  he  ruled  us. 
And  how  is  our  earPs  brother,  Tostig,  esteemed  by  the 
Northmen  ?  It  must  be  hard  to  please  those  who  had 
Siward  of  the  strong  arm  for  their  earl  before." 

"Why,  at  first,  when  (at  Siward's  death  in  the  wars 
for  young  Malcolm)  Harold  secured  to  Tostig  the  North- 
umbrian earldom,  Tostig  went  by  his  brother's  counsel 
and  ruled  well  and  won  favor.  Of  late  I  hear  that  the 
Northmen  murmur.  Tostig  is  a  man  indeed  dour  and 
haughty." 

After  a  few  more  questions  and  answers  on  the  news 
of  the  day,  Yebba  rose  and  said,  — 

"  Thanks  for  thy  good  fellowship ;  it  is  time  for  me 
DOW  to  be  jogging  homeward.  I  left  my  ceorls  and 
horses  on  the  other  side  the  river,  and  must  go  after 
them.  And  now  forgive  me  my  bluntness,  fellow  thegn, 
but  ye  young  courtiers  have  plenty  of  need  for  your 
mancuses,  and  when  a  plain  countryman  like  me  comes 
sight-seeing,  he  ought  to  stand  payment ;  wherefore," 
here  he  took  from  his  belt  a  great  leathern  purse,  "  where- 
fore, as  these  outlandish  birds  and  heathenish  puddings 
must  be  dear  fare " 

"Howl"  said  Godrith,  reddening,  "thinkest  thou  so 
meanly  of  us  thegns  of  Middlesex,  as  to  deem  we  cannot 
entertain   thus  humbly  a  friend  from  a  distance  ?     Ye 


HAROLD.  285 

Kent  men  I  know  are  rich.  But  keep  your  pennies  to 
buy  stuffs  for  your  wife,  my  friend." 

The  Kent  man,  seeing  he  had  displeased  his  compan- 
ion, did  not  press  his  liberal  offer,  —  put  up  his  purse, 
and  suffered  Godrith  to  pay  the  reckoning.  Then,  as  the 
two  thegns  shook  hands,  he  said, — 

"But  I  should  like  to  have  said  a  kind  word  or  so  to 
Earl  Harold  —  for  he  was  too  busy  and  too  great  for  me 
to  come  across  him  in  the  old  palace  yonder.  I  have  a 
mind  to  go  back  and  look  for  him  at  his  own  house." 

"  Yon  will  not  find  him  there,"  said  Godrith,  "  for  I 
know  that  as  soon  as  he  hath  finished  his  conference  with 
the  Atheling,  he  will  leave  the  city  ;  and  I  shall  be  at  his 
own  favorite  manse  over  the  water  at  sunset,  to  take 
orders  for  repairing  the  forts  and  dykes  on  the  Marches. 
You  can  tarry  awhile  and  meet  us ;  you  know  his  old 
lodge  in  the  forest  land  ?  " 

"Kay,  I  must  be  back  and  at  home  ere  night,  for  all 
things  go  wrong  when  the  master  is  away.  Yet,  indeed, 
my  good  wife  will  scold  me  for  not  having  shaken  hands 
with  the  handsome  earl." 

"Thou  shalt  not  come  under  that  sad  infliction,"  said 
the  good-natured  Godrith,  who  was  pleased  with  the 
thegn's  devotion  to  Harold,  and  who,  knowing  the  great 
weight  which  Yebba  (homely  as  he  seemed)  carried  in 
his  important  county,  was  politically  anxious  that  the 
earl  should  humor  so  sturdy  a  friend,  —  "  Thou  shalt  not 
sour  thy  wife's  kiss,  man.     For  look  you,  as  you  ride 


280  HAROLD. 

back  you  will  pass  by  a  large  old  house,  with  broken 
columns  at  the  back." 

"  I  have  marked  it  well,"  said  the  thegn,  "  when  I  have 
gone  that  way,  with  a  heap  of  queer  stones,  on  a  little 
hillock,  which  they  say  the  witches  or  the  Britons  heaped 
together." 

"  The  same.  When  Harold  leaves  London,  I  trow 
well  towards  that  house  will  his  road  wend  ;  for  there 
lives  Edith  the  swan's  neck,  with  her  awful  grandma,  the 
Wieca.  If  thou  art  there  a  little  after  noon,  depend  on 
it  thou  wilt  see  Harold  riding  that  way." 

"  Thank  thee  heartily,  friend  Godrith,"  said  Yebba, 
taking  his  leave,  "and  forgive  my  bluntness  if  I  laughed 
at  thy  cropped  head,  for  I  see  thou  art  as  good  a  Saxon 
as  ere  a  franklin g  of  Kent — and  so  the  saints  keep  thee." 

Yebba  then  strode  briskly  over  the  bridge  ;  and  God- 
rith, animated  by  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  turned  gaily 
on  his  heel  to  look  amongst  the  crowded  tables  for  some 
chance  friend,  with  whom  to  while  away  an  hour  or  so, 
at  the  games  of  hazard  then  in  vogue. 

Scarce  had  he  turned,  when  the  two  listeners,  who, 
having  paid  their  reckoning,  had  moved  under  shade  of 
one  of  the  arcades,  dropped  into  a  boat  which  they  had 
summoned  to  the  margin,  by  a  noiseless  signal,  and  were 
rowed  over  the  water.  They  preserved  a  silence  which 
seemed  thoughtful  and  gloomy  until  they  reached  the 
opposite  shore  :  then,  one  of  them,  pushing  back  his 
bonnet,  showed  the  sharp  and  haughty  features  of  Algar. 

"Well,  friend  of  Gryffyth,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter  ac- 


HAROLD.  287 

cent,  "  thou  hearest  that  Earl  Harold  counts  so  little  on 
the  oaths  of  thy  king,  that  he  intends  to  fortify  the 
Marches  against  hira  ;  and  thou  hearest  also,  that  nought 
save  a  life,  as  fragile  as  the  reed  which  thy  feet  are 
trampling,  stands  between  the  throne  of  England  and 
the  only  Englishman  who  could  ever  have  humbled  my 
son-in-law  to  swear  oath  of  service  to  Edward." 

"  Shame  upon  that  hour,"  said  the  other,  whose  speech, 
as  well  as  the  gold  collar  round  his  neck,  and  the  peculiar 
fashion  of  his  hair,  betokened  him  to  be  Welch.  "Little 
did  I  think  that  the  great  son  of  Llewellyn,  whom  our 
bards  had  set  above  Roderic  Mawr,  would  ever  have  ac- 
knowledged the  sovereignty  of  the  Saxon  over  the  hills 
of  Cymry." 

"  Tut,  Meredydd,-'  anwered  Algar,  "  thou  knowest  well 
that  no  Cymrian  ever  deems  himself  dishonored  by  break- 
ing faith  with  the  Saxon ;  and  we  shall  yet  see  the  lions 
of  Gryffyth  scaring  the  sheep-folds  of  Hereford." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Meredydd,  fiercely.  "And  Harold 
shall  give  to  his  Atheling  the  Saxon  land,  shorn  at  least 
of  the  Cymrian  kingdom." 

"Meredydd,"  said  Algar,  with  a  seriousness  that 
seemed  almost  solemn,  "no  Atheling  will  live  to  rule 
these  realms  !  Thou  knowest  that  I  was  one  of  the  first 
to  hail  the  news  of  his  coming  —  I  hastened  to  Dover  to 
meet  him.  Methought  I  saw  death  writ  on  his  counte- 
nance, and  I  bribed  the  German  leach  who  attends  him 
to  answer  my  questions ;  the  Atheling  knows  it  not,  but 
he  bears  within  him  the  seeds  of  a  mortal  complaint. 


288  HAROLD. 

Thou  wottest  well  what  cause  I  have  to  hate  Earl  Ha- 
rold ;  and  were  I  the  only  man  to  oppose  his  way  to  the 
throne,  he  should  not  ascend  it  but  over  my  corpse.  But 
when  Godrith,  his  creature,  spoke,  I  felt  that  he  spoke 
the  truth ;  and,  the  Atheling  dead,  on  no  head  but  Ha- 
rold's can  fall  the  crown  of  Edward." 

"Ha!"  said  the  Cymrian  chief,  gloomily ;  "thinkest 
thou  so  indeed  ?" 

"  I  think  it  not ;  I  know  it.  And  for  that  reason, 
Meredydd,  we  must  wait  not  till  he  wields  against  us  all 
the  royalty  of  England.  As  yet,  while  Edward  lives, 
there  is  hope.  For  the  king  loves  to  spend  wealth  on 
relics  and  priests,  and  is  slow  when  the  mancuses  are 
wanted  for  fighting-men.  The  king  too,  poor  man  !  is 
not  so  ill  pleased  at  my  outbursts  as  he  would  fain  have 
it  thought !  he  thinks,  by  pitting  earl  against  earl,  that 
he  himself  is  the  stronger.*  While  Edward  lives,  there- 
fore, Harold's  arm  is  half-crippled  ;  wherefore,  Meredydd, 
ride  thou,  with  good  speed,  back  to  King  Gryflfyth,  and 
tell  him  all  I  have  told  thee.  Tell  him  that  our  time  to 
strike  the  blow  and  renew  the  war  will  be  amidst  the 
dismay  and  confusion  that  the  Atheling's  death  will  occa- 
sion. Tell  him,  that  if  we  can  entangle  Harold  himself 
in  the  "Welch  defiles,  it  will  go  hard  but  what  we  shall 
find  some  arrow  or  dagger  to  pierce  the  heart  of  the  in- 
vader. And  were  Harold  but  slain — who  then  would  be 
king  in  England  ?     The  line  of  Cerdic  gone — the  house 


*  II. 


HAROLD.  289 

of  Godwin  lost  in  Earl  Harold,  (for  Tostig  is  hated  in 
bis  own  domain,  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and  Gurth  is  loo 
saintly  for  such  ambition) — who  then,  I  say,  can  be  king 
in  England  but  Algar,  the  heir  of  the  great  Leofric  ? 
And  I,  as  king  of  England,  will  set  all  Cymry  free,  and 
restore  to  the  realm  of  Gryflfyth  the  shires  of  Hereford 
and  Worcester.  Ride  fast,  0  Meredydd,  and  heed  well 
all  I  have  said." 

"  Dost  thou  promise  and  swear,  that  wert  thou  king 
of  England,  Cymry  should  be  free  from  all  service  ?" 

"  Free  as  air,  free  as  under  Arthur  and  Uther;  I  swear 
it.  And  remember  well  how  Harold  addressed  the  Cym- 
rian-  chiefs,  when  he  accepted  Gryflfyth's  oaths  of  ser- 
vice.'- 

"  Remember  it — ay,"  cried  Meredydd,  his  face  lighting 
up  with  intense  ire  and  revenge  ;  "the  stern  Saxon  said, 
'  Heed  well,  ye  chiefs  of  Cymry,  and  thou  Gryffyth  the 
king,  that  if  again  ye  force,  by  ravage  and  rapine,  by 
sacrilege  and  murther,  the  majesty  of  England  to  enter 
your  borders,  duty  must  be  done  :  God  grant  that  your 
Cymrian  lion  may  leave  us  in  peace  —  if  not,  it  is  mercy 
to  human  life  that  bids  us  cut  the  talons  and  draw  the 
fangs.' " 

"Harold,  like  all  calm  and  mild  men,  ever  says  less 
than  he  means,"  returned  Algar;  "and  were  Harold 
king,  small  pretext  would  he  need  for  cutting  the  talons, 
and  drawing  the  fangs." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Meredydd,  with  a  fierce  smile.     "I 

I. —  25  z 


290  HAROLD. 

will  now  go  to  my  men  who  are  lodged  yonder ;  and  it  is 
better  that  thou  shouldst  not  be  seen  with  me." 

"  Right ;  so  St.  David  be  with  you — and  forget  not  a 
word  of  my  message  to  Gryflfyth,  my  son-in-law." 

"  Not  a  word,"  returned  Meredydd,  as  with  a  wave 
of  his  hand  he  moved  towards  an  hostelry,  to  which,  as 
kept  by  one  of  their  own  countrymen,  the  Welch  habit- 
ually resorted  in  the  visits  to  the  capital  which  the  va- 
rious intrigues  and  dissensions  in  their  unhappy  land 
made  frequent. 

The  chief's  train,  which  consisted  of  ten  men,  all  of 
high  birth,  were  not  drinking  in  the  tavern  —  for  sorry 
customers  to  mine  host  were  the  abstemious  Welch. 
Stretched  on  the  grass  under  the  trees  of  an  orchard  that 
backed  the  hostelry,  and  utterly  indifferent  to  all  the 
rejoicings  that  animated  the  population  of  Southwark 
and  London,  they  were  listening  to  a  wild  song  of  the 
old  hero-days  from  one  of  their  number  ;  and  round  them 
grazed  the  rough  shagged  ponies  which  they  had  used 
for  their  journey.  Meredydd,  approaching,  gazed  round, 
and  seeing  no  stranger  was  present,  raised  his  hand  to 
hush  the  song,  and  then  addressed  his  countrymen  briefly 
in  Welch,  —  briefly,  but  with  a  passion  that  was  evident 
in  his  flashing  eyes  and  vehement  gestures.  The  passion 
was  contagious  ;  they  all  sprang  to  their  feet  with  a  low 
but  fierce  cry,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  had  caught  and 
saddled  their  diminutive  palfreys,  while  one  of  the  band, 
who  seemed  singled  out  by  Meredydd,  sallied  forth  alone 
from  the  orchard,  and  took  his  way,  on  foot,  to  the  bridge. 


HAROLD.  291 

He  did  not  tarry  there  long  ;  at  the  sight  of  a  single 
horseman,  whom  a  shout  of  welcome,  on  that  swarming 
thoroughfare,  proclaimed  to  be  Earl  Harold,  the  Welch- 
man  turned,  and  with  a  fleet  foot  regained  his  com- 
panions. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  smilingly,  returned  the  greetings 
he  received,  cleared  the  bridge,  passed  the  suburbs,  and 
soon  gained  the  wild  forest  land  that  lay  along  the 
great  Kentish  road.  He  rode  somewhat  slowly,  for  he 
was  evidently  in  deep  thought ;  and  he  had  arrived  about 
half-way  towards  Hilda's  house,  when  he  heard  behind 
quick  pattering  sounds,  as  of  small  unshod  hoofs :  he 
turned  and  saw  the  Welchmen  at  the  distance  of  some 
fifty  yards.  But  at  that  moment  there  passed,  along  the 
road  in  front,  several  persons  bustling  into  London  to 
share  in  the  festivities  of  the  day.  This  seemed  to  dis- 
concert the  Welch  in  the  rear  ;  and,  after  a  few^  whispered 
words,  they  left  the  high  road  and  entered  the  forest 
land.  Yarious  groups  from  time  to  time  continued  to 
pass  along  the  thoroughfare.  But  still,  ever  through  the 
glades,  Harold  caught  glimpses  of  the  riders :  now  dis- 
tant, now  near.  Sometimes  he  heard  the  snort  of  their 
small  horses,  and  saw  a  fierce  eye  glaring  through  the 
bushes ;  then,  as  at  the  sight  or  sound  of  approaching 
passengers,  the  riders  wheeled,  and  shot  off  through  the 
brakes. 

The  Earl's  suspicions  were  aroused;  for  (though  he 
knew  of  no  enemy  to  apprehend,  and  the  extreme  severity 
of  the  laws  against  robbers  made  the  high-roads  much 


292  HAROLD. 

safer  in  the  latter  days  of  the  Saxon  domination  than 
they  were  for  centuries  under  that  of  the  subsequent 
dynasty,  when  Saxon  thegns  themselves  had  turned  kings 
of  the  greenwood,)  the  various  insurrections  in  Edward's 
reign  had  necessarily  thrown  upon  society  many  turbulent 
disbanded  mercenaries. 

Harold  was  unarmed,  save  the  spear  which,  even  on 
occasions  of  state,  the  Saxon  noble  rarely  laid  aside,  and 
the  ateghar  in  his  belt ;  and,  seeing  now  that  the  road 
had  become  deserted,  he  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  was 
just  in  sight  of  the  Druid  Temple,  when  a  javelin  whizzed 
close  by  his  breast,  and  another  transfixed  his  horse, 
which  fell  head-foremost  to  the  ground. 

The  earl  gained  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  that  haste 
was  needed  to  save  his  life ;  for  while  he  rose  ten  swords 
flashed  around  him.  The  Welchmen  had  sprung  from 
their  palfreys  as  Harold's  horse  fell.  Fortunately  for 
him,  only  two  of  the  party  bore  javelins  (a  weapon  which 
the  Welch  wielded  with  deadly  skill)  and,  those  already 
wasted,  they  drew  their  short  swords,  which  were  pro- 
bably imitated  from  the  Romans,  and  rushed  upon  him 
in  simultaneous  onset.  Yersed  in  all  the  weapons  of  the 
time,  with  his  right  hand  seeking  by  his  spear  to  keep 
off  the  rush,  with  the  ateghar  in  his  left  parrying  the 
strokes  aimed  at  him,  the  brave  earl  transfixed  the  first 
assailant,  and  sore  wounded  the  next ;  but  his  tunic  was 
dyed  red  with  three  gashes,  and  his  sole  chance  of  life 
was  in  the  power  yet  left  him  to  force  his  way  through 
the  ring.     Dropping  his  spear,  shifting  his  ateghar  into 


HAROLD,  293 

the  right  hand,  wrapping  round  his  left  arm  his  gonna  as 
a  shield,  he  sprang  fiercely  on  the  onslaught,  and  on  the 
flashing  swords.  Pierced  to  the  heart  fell  one  of  his 
foes  —  dashed  to  the  earth  another  —  from  the  hand  of  a 
third  (dropping  his  own  ateghar)  he  wrenched  the  sword. 
Loud  rose  Harold's  cry  for  aid,  and  swiftly  he  strode 
towards  the  hillock,  turning  back,  and  striking  as  he 
turned ;  and  again  fell  a  foe,  and  again  new  blood  oozed 
through  his  own  garb.  At  that  moment  his  cry  was 
echoed  by  a  shriek  so  sharp  and  so  piercing  that  it 
startled  the  assailants,  it  arrested  the  assault ;  and,  ere 
the  unequal  strife  could  be  resumed,  a  woman  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  fray  ;  —  a  woman  stood  dauntless  between 
the  earl  and  his  foes. 

"  Back  !  Edith.  Oh,  God  I  Back,  back  !  "  cried  the 
earl,  recovering  all  his  strength  in  the  sole  fear  which 
that  strife  had  yet  stricken  into  his  bold  heart ;  and  draw- 
ing Edith  aside  with  his  strong  arm,  he  again  confronted 
the  assailants 

"  Die  ! "  cried,  in  the  Cymrian  tongue,  the  fiercest  of 
the  foes,  whose  sword  had  already  twice  drawn  the  earl's 
blood  ;   "  die,  that  Cymry  may  be  free  ! " 

Meredydd  sprang,  with  him  sprang  the  survivors  of 
his  band  ;  and,  by  a  sudden  movement,  Edith  had  thrown 
herself  on  Harold's  breast,  leaving  his  right  arm  free,  but 
sheltering  his  form  with  her  own. 

At  that  sight  every  sword  rested  still  in  air.  These 
Cymrians,  hesitating  not  at  the  murder  of  the  man  whose 
death  seemed  to  their  false  virtue  a  sacrifice  due  to  their 
25* 


294  HAROLD. 

hopes  of  freedom,  were  still  the  descendants  of  Heroes, 
and  the  children  of  noble  Song,  and  their  swords  were 
harmless  against  a  woman.  The  same  pause  which  saved 
the  life  of  Harold,  saved  that  of  Meredydd,  for  the 
Cymrian's  lifted  sword  had  left  his  breast  defenceless, 
and  Harold,  despite  his  wrath,  and  his  fears  for  Edith' 
touched  by  that  sudden  forbearance,  forbore  himself  the 
blow. 

"  Why  seek  ye  my  life  ?  "  said  he.  "  Whom  in  broad 
England  hath  Harold  wronged?" 

That  speech  broke  the  charm,  revived  the  suspense  of 
vengeance.  With  a  sudden  aim,  Meredydd  smote  at 
the  head  which  Edith's  embrace  left  unprotected.  The 
sword  shivered  on  the  steel  of  that  which  parried  the 
stroke,  and  the  next  moment,  pierced  to  the  heart,  Mere- 
dydd fell  to  the  earth,  bathed  in  his  gore.  Even  as  he 
fell,  aid  was  at  hand.  The  ceorls  in  the  Roman  house 
had  caught  the  alarm,  and  were  hurrying  down  the  knoll, 
with  arms  snatched  in  haste,  while  a  loud  whoop  broke 
from  the  forest  land  hard  by ;  and  a  troop  of  horse, 
headed  by  Yebba,  rushed  through  the  bushes  and  brakes. 
Those  of  the  Welch  still  surviving,  no  longer  animated 
by  their  fiery  chief,  turned  on  the  instant,  and  fled  with 
that  wonderful  speed  of  foot  which  characterized  their 
active  race ;  calling,  as  they  fled,  to  their  Welch  pigmy 
steeds,  which,  snorting  loud,  and  lashing  out,  came  at 
once  to  the  call.  Seizing  the  nearest  at  hand,  the  fugi- 
tives sprang  to  selle,  while  the  animals  unchosen,  paused 
by  the  corpses  of  their  former  riders,  neighing  piteously, 


HAROLD.  295 

and  shaking  their  long  manes.  And  then,  after  wheeling 
round  and  round  the  coming  horsemen,  with  many  a 
plunge,  and  lash,  and  savage  cry,  they  darted  after  their 
companions,  and  disappeared  amongst  the  bush-wood. 
Some  of  the  Kentish  men  gave  chase  to  the  fugitives, 
but  in  vain  ;  for  the  nature  of  the  ground  favored  flight. 
Yebba,  and  the  rest,  now  joined  by  Hilda's  lithsmen, 
gained  the  spot  where  Harold,  bleeding  fast,  yet  strove 
to  keep  his  footing,  and,  forgetful  of  his  own  wounds, 
was  joyfully  assuring  himself  of  Edith's  safety.  Yebba 
dismounted,  and  recognizing  the  earl,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Saints  in  heaven  !  are  we  in  time  ?  You  bleed — you 
faint ! —  Speak,  Lord  Harold.     How  fares  it  ?  " 

"  Blood  enow  yet  left  here  for  our  merrie  England  !  " 
said  Harold,  with  a  smile.  But  as  he  spoke,  his  head 
drooped,  and  he  was  borne  senseless  into  the  house  of 
Hilda. 


CHAPTER   II. 

The  Yala  met  them  at  the  threshold,  and  testified  so 
little  surprise  at  the  sight  of  the  bleeding  and  uncon- 
scious earl,  that  Yebba,  who  had  heard  strange  tales  of 
Hilda's  unlawful  arts,  half-suspected  that  those  wild-look- 
ing foes,  with  their  uncanny  diminutive  horses,  were  imps 
conjured  by  her  to  punish  a  wooer  to  her  grandchild  — 
who  had  been  perhaps  too  successful  in  the  wooing.    And 


296  HAROLD. 

fears  so  reasonable  were  not  a  little  increased  when 
Hilda,  after  leading  the  wa}^  np  the  steep  ladder  to  the 
chamber  in  which  Harold  had  dreamed  his  fearful  dream, 
bade  them  all  depart,  and  leave  the  wounded  man  to  her 
care. 

"  Not  so,"  said  Yebba,  bluffly.  "  A  life  like  this  is  not 
to  be  left  in  the  hands  of  woman,  or  wicca.  I  shall  go 
back  to  the  great  town,  and  summon  the  earl's  own  leach. 
And  I  beg  thee  to  heed,  meanwhile,  that  every  head  in 
this  house  shall  answer  for  Harold's." 

The  great  Yala,  and  high-born  Hleafdian,  little  ac- 
customed to  be  accosted  thus,  turned  round  abruptly, 
with  so  stern  an  eye  and  so  imperious  a  mien,  that  even 
the  stout  Kent  man  felt  abashed.  She  pointed  to  the 
door  opening  on  the  ladder,  and  said,  briefly  :  - 

"  Depart  I  Thy  lord's  life  hath  been  saved  already, 
and  by  woman.     Depart !  " 

"  Depart,  and  fear  not  for  the  earl,  brave  and  true 
friend  in  need,"  said  Edith,  looking  up  from  Harold's 
pale  lips,  over  which  she  bent ;  and  her  sweet  voice  so 
touched  the  good  thegn,  that,  murmuring  a  blessing  on 
her  fair  face,  he  turned  and  departed. 

Hilda  then  proceeded  with  a  light  and  skilful  hand,  to 
examine  the  wounds  of  her  patient.  She  opened  the 
tunic,  and  washed  away  the  blood  from  four  gaping 
orifices  on  the  breast  and  shoulders.  And  as  she  did  so, 
Edith  uttered  a  faint  cry,  and,  falling  on  her  knees, 
bowed  her  head  over  the  drooping  hand,  and  kissed  it 
with  stifling  emotions,  of  which  perhaps  grateful  joy  was 


HAROLD.  297 

the  strongest ;  for  over  the  heart  of  Harold  was  punc- 
tured, after  the  fashion  of  the  Saxons,  a  device  —  and 
that  device  was  the  knot  of  betrothal,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  knot  was  graven  the  word  "Edith." 


CHAPTER   III. 

Whether  owing  to  Hilda's  runes,  or  to  the  merely 
human  arts  which  accompanied  them,  the  earl's  recovery 
was  rapid,  though  the  great  loss  of  blood  he  had  sus- 
tained left  him  awhile  weak  and  exhausted.  But,  per- 
haps, he  blessed  the  excuse  which  detained  him  still  in 
the  house  of  Hilda,  and  under  the  eyes  of  Edith. 

He  dismissed  the  leach  sent  to  him  by  Yebba,  and 
confided,  not  without  reason  to  the  Yala's  skill.  And 
how  happily  went  his  hours  beneath  the  old  Roman  roof  I 

It  was  not  without  a  superstition,  more  characterized, 
however,  by  tenderness  than  awe,  that  Harold  learned 
that  Edith  had  been  undefinably  impressed  with  a  fore- 
boding of  danger  to  her  betrothed,  and  all  that  morning 
she  had  watched  his  coming  from  the  old  legendary  hill. 
Was  it  not  in  that  watch  that  his  good  Fylgia  had  saved 
his  life  ? 

Indeed,  there  seemed  a  strange  truth  in  Hilda's  asser- 
tions, that  in  the  form  of  his  betrothed,  his  tutelary  spirit 
lived  and  guarded.  For  smooth  every  step,  and  bright 
every   day,  in    his   career,  since   their   troth   had   been 


298  HAROLD. 

plighted.  And  gradually  the  sweet  superstition  had 
mingled  with  human  passion  to  hallow  and  refine  it. 
There  was  a  purity  and  a  depth  in  the  love  of  these  two, 
which,  if  not  uncommon  in  women,  is  most  rare  in  men. 

Harold,  in  sober  truth,  had  learned  to  look  on  Edith 
as  on  his  better  angel ;  and,  calming  his  strong  manly 
heart  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  would  have  recoiled,  as 
a  sacrilege,  from  aught  that  could  have  sullied  that  image 
of  celestial  love.  With  a  noble  and  sublime  patience,  of 
which  perhaps  only  a  character  so  thoroughly  English  in 
its  habits  of  self-control  and  steadfast  endurance  could 
loave  been  capable,  he  saw  the  months  and  the  years  glide 
away,  and  still  contented  himself  with  hope  ;  — hope,  the 
sole  god-like  joy  that  belongs  to  man  I 

As  the  opinion  of  an  age  influences  even  those  who 
affect  to  despise  it,  so,  perhaps,  this  holy  and  unselfish 
passion  was  preserved  and  guarded  by  that  peculiar 
veneration  for  purity  which  formed  the  characteristic 
fanaticism  of  the  last  days  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  —  w^hen 
still  as  Aldhelm  had  previously  sung  in  Latin  less  barba- 
rous than  perhaps  any  priest  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
could  command, — 

♦•Virglnitas  castam  servans  sine  crimine  camera 
Csetera  virtutem  vincit  prseconia  laudi  — 
Spiritus  altithroni  templum  sibi  vindicat  almus ;  "  * 

*  "  The  chaste  who  blameless  keep  unsullied  fame. 
Transcend  all  other  worth,  all  other  praise. 
The  Spirit,  high  enthroned,   has  made  their  hearts 
Ilis  sacred  temple." 


HAROLD.  299 

when,  amidst  a  great  dissoluteness  of  manners,  alike  com- 
mon to  Church  and  laity,  the  opposite  virtues  were,  as  is 
invariable  in  such  epochs  of  society,  carried  by  the  few 
purer  natures  into  heroic  extremes.  "And  as  gold,  the 
adorner  of  the  world,  springs  from  the  sordid  bosom  of 
earth,  so  chastity,  the  image  of  gold,  rose  bright  and  un- 
sullied from  the  clay  of  human  desire."* 

And  Edith,  though  yet  in  the  tenderest  flush  of  beauti- 
ful youth,  had,  under  the  influence  of  that  sanctifying  and 
scarce  earthly  affection,  perfected  her  full  nature  as 
woman.  She  had  learned  so  to  live  in  Harold's  life,  that 
— less,  it  seemed,  by  study  than  intuition  —  a  knowledge 
graver  than  that  which  belonged  to  her  sex  and  her  time, 
seemed  to  fall  upon  her  soul — fall  as  the  sunlight  falls  on 
the  blossoms,  expanding  their  petals,  and  brightening  the 
glory  of  their  hues. 

Hitherto,  living  under  the  shade  of  Hilda's  dreary 
creed,  Edith,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  rather  Christian 
by  name  and  instinct  than  acquainted  with  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel,  or  penetrated  by  its  faith.  But  the  soul 
of  Harold  lifted  her  own  out  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
up  to  the  Heavenly  Hill.  For  the  character  of  their  love 
was  so  pre-eminently  Christian,  so,  by  the  circumstances 
that  surrounded  it  —  so  by  hope  and  self-denial,  elevated 
out  of  the  empire,  not  only  of  the  senses,  but  even  of  that 

Sharon  Turner's  Translation  of  Aldhelm,  vol.  iii.  p.  366.  It  is 
curious  to  see  how,  even  in  Latin,  the  poet  preserves  the  allitera- 
tions that  characterized  the  Saxon  muse. 

*  Slightly  altered  from  Aldhelm. 


300  HAROLD. 

sentiment  which  springs  from  them,  and  which  made  the 
sole  refined  and  poetic  element  of  the  heathen's  love,  that 
but  for  Christianity  it  would  have  withered  and  died.  It 
required  all  the  aliment  of  prayer ;  it  needed  that  patient 
endurance  which  comes  from  the  soul's  consciousness  of 
immortality  ;  it  could  not  have  resisted  earth,  but  from 
the  forts  and  armies  it  won  from  heaven.  Thus  from 
Harold  might  Edith  be  said  to  have  taken  her  very  soul. 
And  with  the  soul,  and  through  the  soul,  woke  the  mind 
from  the  mists  of  childhood. 

In  the  intense  desire  to  be  worthy  the  love  of  the  fore- 
most man  of  her  land  ;  to  be  the  companion  of  his  mind, 
as  well  as  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  she  had  acquired,  she 
knew  not  how,  strange  stores  of  thought,  and  intelligence, 
and  pure,  gentle  wisdom.  In  opening  to  her  confidence 
his  own  high  aims  and  projects,  he  himself  was  scarcely 
conscious  how  often  he  confided  but  to  consult — how 
often  and  how  insensibly  she  colored  his  reflections  and 
shaped  his  designs.  Whatever  was  highest  and  purest, 
that,  Edith  ever,  as  by  instinct,  beheld  as  the  wisest.  She 
grew  to  him  like  a  second  conscience,  diviner  than  his 
own.  Each,  therefore,  reflected  virtue  on  the  other,  as 
planet  illumines  planet. 

All  these  years  of  probation,  then,  which  might  have 
soured  a  love  less  holy,  changed  into  weariness  a  love 
less  intense,  had  only  served  to  wed  them  more  intimately 
soul  to  soul ;  and  in  that  spotless  union  what  happiness 
there  was  !  what  rapture  in  word  and  glance,  and  the 
slight,  restrained,  caress  of  innocence,  beyond  all  the 
transports  love  only  human  can  bestow  I 


HAROLD.  301 


CHAPTER   lY. 

It  was  a  bright  still  summer  noou,  when  Harold  sate 
with  Edith  amidst  the  columns  of  the  Druid  temple,  and 
in  the  shade  which  those  vast  and  mournful  relics  of  a 
faith  departed  cast  along  the  sward.  And  there,  con- 
versing over  the  past,  and  planning  the  future,  they  had 
sate  long,  when  Hilda  approached  from  the  house,  and 
entering  the  circle,  leant  her  arm  upon  the  altar  of  the 
war-god,  and  gazing  on  Harold  with  a  calm  triumph  in 
her  aspect,  said, — 

"  Did  I  not  smile,  son  of  Godwin,  when,  with  thy  short- 
sighted wisdom,  thou  didst  think  to  guard  thy  land  and 
secure  thy  love,  by  urging  the  monk-king  to  send  over 
the  seas  for  the  Atheling  ?  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  '  Thou 
dost  right,  for  in  obeying  thy  judgment  thou  art  but  the 
instrument  of  fate  ;  and  the  coming  of  the  Atheling  shall 
speed  thee  nearer  to  the  ends  of  thy  life,  but  not  from 
the  Atheling  shalt  thou  take  the  crown  of  thy  love,  and 
not  by  the  Atheling  shall  the  throne  of  Athelstan  be 
filled  ? '  " 

"Alas,"  said  Harold,  rising  in  agitation,  "let  me  not 
hear  of  mischance  to  that  noble  prince.  He  seemed  sick 
and  feeble  when  I  parted  from  him  ;  but  joy  is  a  great 
restorer,  and  the  air  of  the  native  land  gives  quick  health 
to  the  exile." 

I. —26 


302  HAROLD. 

"Hark!"  said  Hilda,  "you  bear  the  passing  bell  for 
the  soul  of  the  son  of  Ironsides  ! " 

The  mournful  knell,  as  she  spoke,  came  dull  from  the 
roofs  of  the  city  afar,  borne  to  their  ears  by  the  exceed- 
ing stillness  of  the  atmosphere.  Edith  crossed  herself, 
and  murmured  a  prayer  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
age  ;  then  raising  her  eyes  to  Harold,  she  murmured,  as 
she  clasped  her  hands, — 

"Be  not  saddened,  Harold;  hope  still." 

"  Hope  ! "  repeated  Hilda,  rising  proudly  from  her  re- 
cumbent position,  "  Hope  !  in  that  knell  from  St.  Paul's, 
dull  indeed  is  thine  ear,  0  Harold,  if  thou  hearest  not 
the  joy-bells  that  inaugurate  a  future  king  ! " 

The  earl  started  ;  his  eyes  shot  fire  ;  his  breast  heaved. 

"  Leave  us,  Edith,"  said  Hilda,  in  a  low  voice  ;  and 
after  watching  her  grandchild's  slow  reluctant  steps  de- 
scend the  knoll,  she  turned  to  Harold,  and  leading  him 
towards  the  grave-stone  of  the  Saxon  chief,  said, — 

"  Rememberest  thou  the  spectre  that  rose  from  this 
mound  ? — rememberest  thou  the  dream  that  followed  it  ? '' 

"  The  spectre,  or  deceit  of  mine  eye,  I  remember  well," 
answered  the  earl ;  "  the  dream,  not ; — or  only  in  confused 
and  jarring  fragments." 

"I  told  thee  then,  that  I  could  not  unriddle  the  dream 
by  the  light  of  the  momeni ;  and  that  the  dead  who  slept 
below  never  appeared  to  men,  save  for  some  portent  of 
doom  to  the  house  of  Cerdic.  The  portent  is  falfilled  ; 
the  Heir  of  Cerdic  is  no  more      To  whom  appeared  the 


HAROLD.  303 

great  Scin-lseca,  but  to  him  who  shall  lead  a  new  race 
of  kings  to  the  Saxon  throne  ! " 

Harold  breathed  hard,  and  the  color  mounted  bright 
and  glowing  to  his  cheek  and  brow. 

"  I  cannot  gainsay  thee,  Yala.  Unless,  despite  all 
conjecture,  Edward  should  be  spared  to  earth  till  the 
Atheling's  infant  son  acquires  the  age  when  bearded  men 
will  acknowledge  a  chief,*  I  look  round  in  England  for 
the  coming  king,  and  all  England  reflects  but  mine  own 
image." 

His  head  rose  erect  as  he  spoke,  and  already  the  brow 
seemed  august,  as  if  circled  by  the  diadem  of  the  Basileus. 

"And  if  it  be  so,"  he  added,  "I  accept  that  solemn 
trust,  and  England  shall  grow  greater  in  my  greatness." 

"The  flame  breaks  at  last  from  the  smouldering  fuel," 
cried  the  Yala,  "  and  the  hour  I  so  long  foretold  to  thee 
hath  come  !" 

*  It  is  impossible  to  form  any  just  view  of  the  state  of  parties, 
and  the  position  of  Harold  in  the  latter  portions  of  this  work,  un- 
less the  reader  will  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  fact  that,  from  the 
earliest  period,  minors  were  set  aside  as  a  matter  of  course,  by  the 
Saxon  customs.  Henry  observes  that,  in  the  whole  history  of  the 
Heptarchy,  there  is  but  one  example  of  a  minority,  and  that  a  short 
and  unfortunate  one ;  so,  in  the  later  times,  the  great  Alfred  takes 
the  throne,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  infant  son  of  his  elder  brother. 
Only  under  very  peculiar  circumstances,  backed,  as  in  the  case  of 
Edmund  Ironsides,  by  precocious  talents  and  manhood  on  the  part 
of  the  minor,  were  there  exceptions  to  the  general  laws  of  succes- 
sion. The  same  rule  obtained  with  the  earldoms ;  the  fame,  power, 
and  popularity  of  Siward  could  not  transmit  his  Xorthumbrian 
earldom  to  his  infant  son  Waltheof,  so  gloomily  renowned  in  a 
subsequent  reign. 


304  HAROLD. 

Harold  answered  not,  for  high  and  kindling  emotiona 
deafened  him  to  all  but  the  voice  of  a  grand  ambition, 
and  the  awakening  joy  of  a  noble  heart. 

"  And -then  —  and  then,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  shall  need 
no  mediator  between  nature  and  monkcraft ; — then,  0 
Edith,  the  life  thou  hast  saved  will  indeed  be  thine  ! " 
He  paused,  and  it  was  a  sign  of  the  change  that  an 
ambition  long  repressed,  but  now  rushing  into  the  vent 
legitimately  open  to  it,  had  already  begun  to  work  in  the 
character  hitherto  so  self-reliant,  when  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "But  that  dream  which  hath  so  long  lain  locked, 
not  lost,  in  my  mind  ;  that  dream  of  which  I  recall  only 
vague  remembrances  of  danger  yet  defiance,  trouble  yet 
triumph,  —  canst  thou  unriddle  it,  0  Yala,  into  auguries 
of  success  ?  " 

"Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  "thou  didst  hear  at  the 
close  of  thy  dream,  the  music  of  the  hymns  that  are 
chaunted  at  the  crowning  of  a  king,  —  and  a  crowned 
king  shalt  thou  be ;  yet  fearful  foes  shall  assail  thee  — 
foreshown  in  the  shapes  of  the  lion  and  raven,  that  came 
in  menace  over  the  blood-red  sea.  The  two  stars  in  the 
heaven  betoken  that  the  day  of  thy  birth  was  also  the 
birth-day  of  a  foe,  whose  star  is  fatal  to  thine ;  and  they 
warn  thee  against  a  battle-field,  fought  on  the  day  when 
those  stars  shall  meet.  Farther  than  this  the  mystery 
of  thy  dream  escapes  from  my  lore; — wouldstthou  learn 
thyself,  from  the  phantom  that  sent  the  dream  ;  — stand 
by  my  side  at  the  grave  of  the  Saxon  hero,  and  I  will 
summon  the  Scin-laeca  to  counsel  the  living.     For  what 


HAROLD.  305 

to  the  Yala  the  dead  may  deny,  the  soul  of  the  brave  on 
the  brave  may  bestow  !  " 

Harold  listened  with  a  serious  and  musing  attention, 
which  his  pride  or  his  reason  had  never  before  accorded 
to  the  warnings  of  Hilda.  But  his  sense  was  not  yet 
fascinated  by  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  and  he  answered 
with  his  wonted  smile,  so  sweet  yet  so  haughty,  — 

"  A  hand  outstretched  to  a  crown  should  be  armed  for 
the  foe;  and  the  eye  that  would  guard  the  living  should 
not  be  dimmed  by  the  vapors  that  encircle  the  dead.*' 


CHAPTER   y. 

But  from  that  date  changes,  slight,  yet  noticeable  and 
important,  were  at  work  both  in  the  conduct  and  cha- 
racter of  the  great  earl. 

Hitherto  he  had  advanced  on  his  career  without  calcu- 
lation ;  and  nature,  not  policy,  had  achieved  his  power. 
But  henceforth  he  began  thoughtfully  to  cement  the 
foundations  of  his  house,  to  extend  the  area,  to  strengthen 
the  props.  Policy  now  mingled  with  the  justice  that 
had  made  him  esteemed,  and  the  generosity  that  had  won 
him  love.  Before,  though  by  temper  conciliatory,  yet, 
through  honesty,  indifferent  to  the  enmities  he  provoked, 
in  his  adherence  to  what  his  conscience  approved,  he  now 
laid  himself  out  to  propitiate  all  ancient  feuds,  soothe  all 
20  *  u 


306  HAROLD. 

jealousies,  and  convert  foes  into  friends.  He  opened 
constant  and  friendly  communication  with  his  uncle 
Sweyn,  King  of  Denmark  ;  he  availed  himself  sedulously 
of  all  the  influence  over  the  Anglo-Danes  which  his 
mother's  birth  made  so  facile.  He  strove  also,  and 
wisely,  to  conciliate  the  animosities  which  the  Church 
had  cherished  against  Godwin's  house  ;  he  concealed  his 
disdain  of  the  monks  and  monk-ridden  ;  he  skowed  him- 
self the  Church's  patron  and  friend  ;  he  endowed  largely 
the  convents,  and  especially  one  at  Waltham,  which  had 
fallen  into  decay,  though  favorably  known  for  the  piety 
of  its  brotherhood.  But  if  in  this  he  played  a  part  not 
natural  to  his  opinions,  Harold  could  not,  even  in  simula- 
tion, administer  to  evil.  The  monasteries  he  favored 
were  those  distinguished  for  purity  of  life,  for  benevolence 
to  the  poor,  for  bold  denunciation  of  the  excesses  of  the 
great.  He  had  not,  like  the  Norman,  the  grand  design 
of  creating  in  the  priesthood  a  college  of  learning,  a 
school  of  arts ;  such  notions  were  unfamiliar  in  homely 
unlettered  England.  And  Harold,  though  for  his  time 
and  his  land  no  mean  scholar,  would  have  recoiled  from 
favoring  a  learning  always  made  subservient  to  Rome  ; 
always  at  once  haughty  and  scheming,  and  aspiring  to 
complete  domination  over  both  the  souls  of  men  and  the 
thrones  of  kings.  But  his  aim  was,  out  of  the  elements 
he  found  in  the  natural  kindliness  existing  between  Saxon 
priest  and  Saxon  flock,  to  rear  a  modest,  virtuous,  homely 
clergy,  not  above  tender  sympathy  with  an  ignorant 
population.     He  selected  as  examples  for  his  monastery 


HAROLD.  307 

at  Waltham,  two  low-born  humble  brothers,  Osgood  and 
Ailred  ;  the  one  known  for  the  courage  with  which  he 
had  gone  through  the  land,  preaching  to  abbot  and  thegn 
the  emancipation  of  the  theowes,  as  the  most  meritorious 
act  the  safety  of  the  soul  could  impose  ;  the  other,  who, 
originally  a  clerk,  had,  according  to  the  common  custom 
of  the  Saxon  clergy,  contracted  the  bonds  of  marriage, 
and  with  some  eloquence  had  vindicated  that  custom 
against  the  canons  of  Rome,  and  refused  the  offer  of 
large  endowments  and  thegn's  rank  to  put  away  his  wife. 
But  on  the  death  of  that  spouse,  he  had  adopted  the 
cowl,  and  while  still  persisting  in  the  lawfulness  of  mar- 
riage to  the  unmonastic  clerks,  had  become  famous  for 
denouncing  the  open  concubinage  which  desecrated  the 
holy  office,  and  violated  the  solemn  vows,  of  many  a  proud 
prelate  and  abbot. 

To  these  two  men  (both  of  whom  refused  the  abbacy 
of  Waltham)  Harold  committed  the  charge  of  selecting 
the  new  brotherhood  established  there.  And  the  monks 
of  Waltham  were  honored  as  saints  throughout  the  neigh- 
boring district,  and  cited  as  examples  to  all  the  Church. 

But  though  in  themselves  the  new  politic  arts  of 
Harold  seemed  blameless  enough,  arts  they  were,  and  as 
such  they  corrupted  the  genuine  simplicity  of  his  earlier 
nature.  He  had  conceived  for  the  first  time  an  ambition 
apart  from  that  of  service  to  his  country.  It  was  no 
longer  only  to  serve  the  land,  it  was  to  serve  it  as  its 
ruler,  that  animated  his  heart  and  colored  his  thoughts. 
Expediencies  began  to  dim  to  his  conscience  the  health- 


308  HAROLD. 

fill  loveliness  of  Truth.  And  now,  too,  gradually,  that 
empire  which  Hilda  had  gained  over  his  brother  Sweyn, 
began  to  sway  this  man,  heretofore  so  strong  in  his 
sturdy  sense.  The  future  became  to  him  a  dazzling 
mystery,  into  which  his  conjectures  plunged  themselves 
more  and  more.  He  had  not  yet  stood  in  the  Runic 
circle  and  invoked  the  dead ;  but  the  spells  were  around 
his  heart,  and  in  his  own  soul  had  grown  up  the  familiar 
demon. 

Still  Edith  reigned  alone,  if  not  in  his  thoughts,  at 
least  in  his  affections  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  the  hope  of 
conquering  all  obstacles  to  his  marriage  that  mainly 
induced  him  to  propitiate  the  Church,  through  whose 
agency  the  object  he  sought  must  be  attained  ;  and  still 
that  hope  gave  the  brightest  lustre  to  the  distant  crown. 
But  he  who  admits  Ambition  to  the  companionship  of 
Love,  admits  a  giant  that  outstrides  the  gentler  footsteps 
of  its  comrade. 

Harold's  brow  lost  its  benign  calm.  He  became 
thoughtful  and  abstracted.  He  consulted  Edith  less, 
Hilda  more.  Edith  seemed  to  him  now  not  wise  enough 
to  counsel.  The  smile  of  his  Fylgia,  like  the  light  of 
the  star  upon  a  stream,  lit  the  surface,  but  could  not 
pierce  to  the  deep. 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  policy  of  Harold  throve  and 
prospered.  He  had  already  arrived  at  that  height,  that 
the  least  effort  to  make  power  popular  redoubled  its 
extent.  Gradually  all  voices  swelled  the  chorus  in  his 
praise  ;  gradually  men  became  familiar  to  the  question, 


HAROLD.  300 

**  If  Edward  dies  before  Edgar,  the  grandson  of  Iron- 
sides, is  of  age  to  succeed,  where  can  we  find  a  king  like 
Harold  ?  " 

In  the  midst  of  this  quiet  but  deepening  sunshine  of 
his  fate,  there  burst  a  storm,  which  seemed  destined 
either  to  darken  his  day  or  to  disperse  every  cloud  from 
the  horizon.  Algar,  the  only  possible  rival  to  his  power 
— the  only  opponent  no  arts  could  soften — Algar,  whose 
hereditary  name  endeared  him  to  tlie  Saxon  laity,  whose 
father's  most  powerful  legacy  was  the  love  of  the  Saxon 
Church,  whose  martial  and  turbulent  spirit  had  only  the 
more  elevated  him  in  the  esteem  of  the  warlike  Danes  in 
East  Anglia,  (the  earldom  in  which  he  had  succeeded 
Harold,)  by  his  father's  death,  lord  of  the  great  princi- 
pality of  Mercia  —  availed  himself  of  that  new  power  to 
break  out  again  into  rebellion.  Again  he  was  outlawed, 
again  he  leagued  with  the  fiery  Gryflfyth.  All  Wales  was 
in  revolt ;  the  Marches  were  invaded  and  laid  waste. 
Rolfe,  the  feeble  Earl  of  Hereford,  died  at  this  critical 
juncture,  and  the  Normans  and  hirelings  under  him 
mutinied  against  other  leaders ;  a  fleet  of  vikings  from 
Norway  ravaged  the  western  coasts,  and  sailing  up  the 
Menai,  joined  the  ships  of  Gryflfyth,  and  the  whole  empire 
seemed  menaced  with  dissolution,  when  Edward  issued 
his  Herrbann,  and  Harold  at  the  head  of  the  royal  armies 
marched  on  the  foe. 

Dread  and  dangerous  were  those  defiles  of  Wales ; 
£itnidst  them  had  been  foiled  or  slaughtered  all  the 
warriors  under  Rolf  the  Norman  ;  no  Saxon  armies  had 


310  HAROLD. 

won  laurels  in  the  Cyrarian's  own  mountain  home  within 
the  memory  of  man ;  nor  had  any  Saxon  ships  borne 
the  palm  from  the  terrible  vikings  of  Norway.  Fail, 
Harold,  and  farewell  the  crown!  —  succeed,  and  thou 
hast  on  thy  side  the  uUimam  rationem  regum  (the  last 
argument  of  kings),  the  heart  of  the  army  over  which 
thou  art  chief. 


CHAPTER   YI. 

It  was  one  day  in  the  height  of  summer  that  two 
horsemen  rode  slowly,  and  conversing  with  each  other  in 
friendly  wise,  notwithstanding  an  evident  difference  of 
rank  and  of  nation,  through  the  lovely  country  which 
formed  the  Marches  of  Wales.  The  younger  of  these 
men  was  unmistakably  a  Norman  ;  his  cap  only  partially 
covered  the  head,  which  was  shaven  from  the  crown  to 
the  nape  of  the  neck,*  while  in  front  the  hair,  closely 
cropped,  curled  short  and  thick  round  a  haughty  but 
intelligent  brow.  His  dress  fitted  close  to  his  shape,  and 
was  worn  without  mantle ;  his  leggings  were  curiously 
crossed  in  the  fashion  of  a  tartan,  and  on  his  heels  were 
spurs  of  gold.  He  was  wholly  unarmed  ;  but  behind 
him  and  his  companion,  at  a  little  distance,  his  war 
horse,  completely  caparisoned,  was  led  by  a  single  squire, 
mounted  on   a  good  Norman  steed ;   while  six  Saxon 

*  Bnyeux  tapestry. 


HAROLD.  311 

theowes,  themselves  on  foot,  conducted  three  sumpter- 
mules,  somewhat  heavily  laden,  not  only  with  the  armor 
of  the  Norman  knight,  but  panniers  containing  rich 
robes,  wines,  and  provender.  At  a  few  paces  farther 
behind,  marched  a  troop,  light-armed,  in  tough  hides, 
curiously  tanned,  with  axes  swung  over  their  shoulders, 
and  bows  in  their  hands. 

The  companion  of  the  knight  was  as  evidently  a  Saxon 
as  the  knight  was  unequivocally  a  Xorman.  His  square, 
short  features,  contrasting  the  oval  visage  and  aquiline 
profile  of  his  close-shaven  comrade,  were  half  concealed 
beneath  a  bushy  beard  and  immense  moustache.  His 
tunic,  also,  was  of  hide,  and,  tightened  at  the  waist,  fell 
loose  to  his  knee  ;  while  a  kind  of  cloak,  fastened  to  the 
right  shoulder  by  a  large  round  button,  or  broach,  flowed 
behind  and  in  front,  but  left  both  arms  free.  His  cap 
differed  in  shape  from  the  Norman's,  being  round  and  full 
at  the  sides,  somewhat  in  shape  like  a  turban.  His  bare, 
brawny  throat  was  curiously  punctured  with  sundry  de- 
vices, and  a  verse  from  the  Psalms. 

His  countenance,  though  without  the  high  and  haughty 
brow,  and  the  acute,  observant  eye  of  his  comrade,  had  a 
pride  and  intelligence  of  its  own — a  pride  somewhat  sul- 
len, and  an  intelligence  somewhat  slow. 

"  My  good  friend,  Sexwolf,"  quoth  the  Norman  in  very 
tolerable  Saxon,  "  I  pray  you  not  so  to  misesteem  us. 
After  all,  we  Normans  are  of  your  own  race  :  our  fathers 
spoke  the  same  language  as  yours." 

"That  may  be,"  said  the  Saxon,  bluntlv,  "  and  so  did 


312  HAROLD. 

the  Danes,  wiih  little  difference,  when  they  burned  our 
houses  and  cut  our  throats." 

"  Old  tales,  those,"  replied  the  knight,  "  and  I  thank 
thee  for  the  comparison  ;  for  the  Danes,  thou  seest,  are 
now  settled  amongst  ye,  peaceful  subjects  and  quiet  men, 
and  in  a  few  generations  it  will  be  hard  to  guess  who 
comes  from  Saxon,  who  from  Dane." 

"We  waste  time,  talking  such  matters,"  returned  the 
Saxon,  feeling  himself  instinctively  no  match  in  argument 
for  his  lettered  companion  ;  and  seeing,  with  his  native 
strong  sense,  that  some  ulterior  object,  though  he  guessed 
not  what,  lay  hid  in  the  conciliatory  language  of  his  com- 
panion ;  "nor  do  I  believe.  Master  Mallet  or  Gravel  — 
forgive  me  if  I  miss  of  the  right  forms  to  address  you — 
that  Norman  will  ever  love  Saxon,  or  Saxon  Norman  ; 
so  let  us  cut  our  words  short.  There  stands  the  convent, 
at  which  you  would  like  to  rest  and  refresh  yourself" 

The  Saxon  pointed  to  a  low,  clumsy  building  of  tim- 
ber, forlorn  and  decayed,  close  by  a  rank  marsh,  over 
which  swarmed  gnats,  and  all  foul  animalcules. 

Mallet  de  Graville,  for  it  was  he,  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, and  said,  with  an  air  of  pity  and  contempt, — 

"  I  would,  friend  Sexwolf,  that  thou  couldst  but  see  the 
houses  we  build  to  God  and  his  saints  in  our  Normandy ; 
fabrics  of  stately  stone,  on  the  fairest  sites.  Our  Countess 
Matilda  hath  a  notable  taste  for  the  masonry ;  and  our 
workmen  are  the  brethren  of  Lombardy,  who  know  all 
the  mysteries  thereof" 

"  I  pray  thee,  Dan-Norman,"  cried  the  Saxon,  "  not  to 


HA^KOLD.  313 

put  such  ideas  into  the  soft  head  of  King  Edward.  We 
pay  enow  for  the  Church,  though  built  but  of  tiniber ; 
saints  help  us  indeed,  if  it  were  builded  of  stone  ! " 

The  Xorman  crossed  himself,  as  if  he  had  heard  some 
signal  impiety,  and  then  said, — 

**  Thou  lovest  not  Mother  Church,  worthy  Sexwolf  ?" 

"I  was  brought  up,"  replied  the  sturdy  Saxon,  "to 
work  and  sweat  hard,  and  I  love  not  the  lazy  who  de- 
vour my  substance,  and  say,  'the  saints  gave  it  them.' 
Knowest  thou  not,  Master  Mallet,  that  one-third  of  all 
the  lands  of  England  is  in  the  hands  of  the  priests  ?  ■' 

"  Hem  ! "  said  the  acute  Xorman,  who,  with  all  his  de- 
votion, could  stoop  to  wring  worldly  advantage  from  each 
admission  of  his  comrade  ;  "  then  in  this  merrie  England 
of  thine,  thou  hast  still  thy  grievances  and  cause  of  com- 
plaint ?'' 

"  Yea,  indeed,  and  I  trow  it,'-  quoth  the  Saxon,  even 
in  that  day  a  grumbler;  "but  I  take  it,  the  main  differ- 
ence between  thee  and  me  is,  that  I  can  say  what  mis- 
likes  me  out  like  a  man  ;  and  it  would  fare  ill  with  thy 
limbs  or  thy  life  if  thou  wert  as  frank  in  the  grim  land 
of  thy  heretogh.'^ 

"  Xow,  Notre  Dame  stop  thy  prating,"  said  the  Xor- 
man,  in  high  disdain,  while  his  brow  frowned  and  his  eye 
sparkled.  "  Strong  judge  and  great  captain  as  is  Wil- 
liam the  Norman,  his  barons  and  knights  hold  their  heads 
high  in  his  presence,  and  not  a  grievance  weighs  on  the 
heart  that  we  give  not  out  with  the  lip.*' 

"So  have  I  heard,*'  said  the  Saxon,  chuckling ;      I 

I.  — 27 


314  HAROLD. 

have  heard,  indeed,  that  ye  thegns,  or  great  men,  are 
free  enow,  and  plain-spoken.  But  what  of  the  commons 
— the  sixhaendmen,  and  the  ceorls,  master  Norman  ?  Dare 
they  speak  as  we  speak  of  king  and  of  law,  of  thegu  and 
of  captain  ?  " 

The  Norman  wisely  curbed  the  scornful  "  No,  indeed," 
that  rushed  to  his  lips,  and  said,  all  sweet  and  debon- 
nair, — 

"  Each  land  hath  its  customs,  dear  Sexwolf ;  and  if  the 
Norman  were  king  of  England,  he  would  take  the  laws 
as  he  finds  them,  and  the  ceorls  would  be  as  safe  with 
William  as  Edward." 

"  The  Norman,  king  of  England  ! "  cried  the  Saxon, 
reddening  to  the  tips  of  his  great  ears,  "  What  dost  thou 
babble  of,  stranger  ?  The  Norman  !  —  How  could  that 
ever  be  ? " 

"Nay,  I  did  but  suggest  —  but  suppose  such  a  case," 
replied  the  knight,  still  smothering  his  wrath.  "And 
why  thinkest  thou  the  conceit  so  outrageous  ?  Thy  king 
is  childless  ;  William  is  his  next  of  kin,  and  dear  to  him 
as  a  brother  ;  and  if  Edward  did  leave  him  the  throne — " 

"The  throne  is  for  no  man  to  leave,"  almost  roared 
the  Saxon.  "  Thinkest  thou  the  people  of  England  are 
like  cattle  and  sheep,  and  chatties  and  theowes,  to  be 
left  by  will,  as  man  fancies  ?  The  king's  wish  has  its 
weight,  no  doubt,  but  the  Witan  hath  its  yea  or  its  nay, 
and  the  Witan  and  Commons  are  seldom  at  issue  thereon. 
Thy  duke  king  of  England  !     Marry  1     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Brute  !  "  muttered  the  knight  to  himself;  then  adding 


HAROLD.  315 

aloud,  with  his  old  tone  of  irony  (now  much  habitually- 
subdued  by  years  and  discretion),  "  Why  takest  thou  so 
the  part  of  the  ceorls  ?  thou  a  captain,  and  well-nigh  a 
thegn  !  " 

''  I  was  born  a  ceorl,  and  my  father  before  me,"  re- 
turned Sexwolf,  "  and  I  feel  with  my  class  ;  though  my 
grandson  may  rank  with  the  thegns,  and,  for  aught  I 
know,  with  the  earls." 

The  Sire  de  Graville  involuntarily  drew  off  from  the 
Saxon's  side,  as  if  made  suddenly  aware  that  he  had 
grossly  demeaned  himself  in  such  unwitting  familiarity 
with  a  ceorl,  and  a  ceorl's  son  ;  and  he  said,  with  a  much 
more  careless  accent  and  lofty  port  than  before, — 

"  Good  man,  thou  wert  a  ceorl,  and  now  thou  leadest 
Earl  Harold's  men  to  the  war!  How  is  this  ?  I  do  not 
quite  comprehend  it." 

"  How  shouldst  thou,  poor  Norman,"  replied  the  Saxon 
compassionately.  "  The  tale  is  soon  told.  Know  that 
when  Harold  our  earl  was  banished,  and  his  lands  taken, 
we  his  ceorls  helped  with  his  sixhaendman,  Clapa,  to 
purchase  his  land,  nigh  by  London,  and  the  house  wherein 
thou  didst  find  me,  of  a  stranger,  thy  countryman,  to 
whom  they  were  lawlessly  given.  And  we  tilled  the  land, 
we  tended  the  herds,  and  we  kept  the  house  till  the  earl 
came  back." 

"  Ye  had  moneys  then,  moneys  of  your  own,  ye  ceorls  !'' 
said  the  Norman  avariciously. 

"  How  else  could  we  buy  our  freedom  ?  Every  ceorl 
hath  some  hours  to  himself  to  employ  to  his  profit,  and 


316  HAROLD. 

can  lay  by  for  his  own  ends.  These  savings  we  gave  np 
for  our  earl,  and  when  the  earl  came  back,  he  gave  the 
sixhoendman  hydes  of  land  enow  to  make  him  a  thegn  ; 
and  he  gave  the  ceorls  who  had  holpen  Clapa,  their  free- 
dom and  broad  shares  of  his  boc-land,  and  most  of  them 
now  hold  their  own  ploughs  and  feed  their  own  herds. 
But  I  loved  the  earl  (having  no  wife)  better  than  swine 
and  glebe,  and  I  prayed  him  to  let  me  serve  him  in  arras. 
And  so  I  have  risen,  as  with  us  ceorls  can  rise." 

"  I  am  answered,"  said  Mallet  de  Graville  thoughtfully 
and  still  somewhat  perplexed.  "  But  these  theowes  (they 
are  slaves)  never  rise.  It  cannot  matter  to  them  whether 
shaven  Norman  or  bearded  Saxon  sit  on  the  throne  ?  " 

"  Thou  art  right  there,"  answered  the  Saxon ;,  "  it  mat- 
ters as  little  to  them  as  it  doth  to  thy  thieves  and  felons, 
for  many  of  them  are  felons  and  thieves,  or  the  children 
of  such ;  and  most  of  those  who  are  not,  it  is  said,  are 
not  Saxons,  but  the  barbarous  folks  whom  the  Saxons 
subdued.  No,  wretched  things,  and  scarce  men,  they 
care  nought  for  the  land.  Howbeit,  even  they  are  not 
without  hope,  for  the  Church  takes  their  part ;  and  that, 
at  least,  I  for  one,  think  Church-worthy,"  added  the 
Saxon  with  a  softened  eye.  "And  every  abbot  is  bound 
to  set  free  three  theowes  on  his  lands,  and  few  who  own 
theowes  die  without  freeing  some  by  their  will ;  so  that 
the  sons  of  theowes  may  be  thegns,  and  thegns  some  of 
them  are  at  this  day." 

"  Marvels  ! "   cried  the  Norman.     "  But   surely  they 


HAROLD.  Sn 

bear  a  stain  and  stigma,  and  their  fellow-thegns  flout 
them  '• 

"Not  a  whit  —  why  so?  land  is  land,  money  money. 
Little,  I  trow,  care  we  what  a  man's  father  may  have 
been,  if  the  man  himself  hath  his  ten  hydes  or  more  of 
good  boc-land." 

"Ye  value  land  and  the  moneys,"  said  the  Norman, 
"so  do  we,  but  we  value  more  name  and  birth," 

"  Ye  are  still  in  your  leading-strings,  Norman,"  replied 
the  Saxon,  waxing  good-humored  in  his  contempt.  "  We 
have  an  old  saying  and  a  wise  one,  'All  come  from  Adam 
except  Tib  the  ploughman  ;  but  when  Tib  grows  rich,  all 
call  him  'dear  brother.'" 

"With  such  pestilent  notions,"  quoth  the  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville,  no  longer  keeping  temper,  "I  do  not  wonder  that 
our  fathers  of  Norway  and  Daneland  beat  ye  so  easily. 
The  love  for  things  ancient — creed,  lineage,  and  name,  is 
better  steel  against  the  stranger,  than  your  smiths  ever 
welded." 

Therewith,  and  not  waiting  for  Sexwolfs  reply,  he 
clapped  spurs  to  his  palfrey,  and  soon  entered  the  court- 
yard of  the  convent. 

A  monk  of  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  then  most  in 
favor,*  ushered  the  noble  visitor  into  the  cell  of  the 
abbot;  who,  after  gazing  at  him  a  moment  in  wonder 
and  delight,  clasped  him  to  his  breast  and  kissed  him 
heartily  on  brow  and  cheek. 

^  Indeed,   apparently  the  only  monnstic  order  in  England. 

2Y* 


318  H  A  R  O  I.  D  . 

"Ah,  Guillaurae,"  he  exclaimed  in  the  Norman  tongue, 
"  this  is  indeed  a  grace  for  which  to  sing  Jubilate.  Thou 
canst  not  guess  how  welcome  is  the  face  of  a  countryman 
in  this  horrible  land  of  ill-cooking  and  exile." 

"  Talking  of  grace,  my  dear  father,  and  food,"  said  De 
Graville,  loosening  the  cincture  of  the  tight  vest  which 
gave  him  the  shape  of  a  wasp  —  for  even  at  that  early 
period,  small  waists  were  in  vogue  with  the  warlike  fops 
of  the  French  continent — "  talking  of  grace,  the  sooner 
thou  say'st  it  over  some  friendly  refection,  the  more  will 
the  Latin  sound  unctuous  and  musical.  I  have  journeyed 
since  daybreak,  and  am  now  hungered  and  faint." 

"Alack,  alack  ! "  cried  the  abbot,  plaintively,  "  thou 
knowest  little,  my  son,  what  hardships  we  endure  in  these 
parts,  how  larded  our  larders,  and  how  nefarious  our  fare. 
The  flesh  of  swine  salted — " 

"The  flesh  of  Beelzebub,"  cried  Mallet  de  Graville 
aghast.  "  But  comfort  thee,  I  have  stores  on  my  sump- 
ter-mules — poulardes  and  fishes,  and  other  not  despicable 
comestibles,  and  a  few  flasks  of  wine,  not  pressed,  laud 
the  saints  !  from  the  vines  of  this  country :  wherefore, 
wilt  thou  see  to  it,  and  instruct  thy  cooks  how  to  season 
the  cheer  ?  " 

"  No  cooks  have  I  to  trust  to,"  replied  the  abbot ;  "  of 
cooking  know  they  here  as  much  as  of  Latin  ;  natheless, 
I  will  go  and  do  my  best  with  the  stew-pans.  Mean- 
while, thou  wilt  at  least  have  rest  and  the  bath.  For  the 
Saxons,  even  in  their  convents,  are  a  clean  race,  and 
learned  the  bath  from  the  Dane." 


HAROLD.  319 

"  That  I  have  noted,"  said  the  knight,  "  for  even  at 
the  smallest  house  at  which  I  have  lodged  in  my  way 
from  London,  the  host  hath  courteously  offered  me  the 
bath,  and  the  hostess  linen  curious  and  fragrant ;  and  to 
say  truth,  the  poor  people  are  hospitable  and  kind,  de- 
spite their  uncouth  hate  of  the  foreigner;  nor  is  their 
meat  to  be  despised,  plentiful  and  succulent ;  but  pardex, 
as  thou  sayest,  little  helped  by  the  art  of  dressing. 
Wherefore,  my  father,  I  will  while  the  time  till  the  pou- 
lardes  be  roasted,  and  the  fish  broiled  or  stewed,  by  the 
ablutions  thou  profiferest  me.  I  shall  tarry  with  thee  some 
hours,  for  I  have  much  to  learn." 

The  abbot  then  led  the  Sire  de  Graville  by  the  hand  to 
the  cell  of  honor  and  guestship,  and  having  seen  that  the 
bath  prepared  was  of  warmth  sufficient,  for  both  Norman 
and  Saxon  (hardy  men  as  they  seem  to  us  from  afar)  so 
shuddered  at  the  touch  of  cold  water,  that  a  bath  of 
natural  temperature  (as  well  as  a  hard  bed)  was  some- 
times imposed  as  a  penance,  — the  good  father  went  his 
way,  to  examine  the  sumpter-mules,  and  admonish  the 
much-suffering  and  bewildered  lay-brother  who  officiated 
as  cook, — and  who,  speaking  neither  Norman  nor  Latin, 
scarce  made  out  one  word  in  ten  of  his  superior's  elaborate 
exhortations. 

Mallet's  squire,  with  a  change  of  raiment,  and  goodly 
coffers  of  soaps,  unguents,  and  odors,  took  his  way  to  the 
knight,  for  a  Norman  of  birth  was  accustomed  to  much 
personal  attendance,  and  had  all  respect  for  the  body  : 
and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before,  in  a  long  gown  of  fur, 


320  HAROLD. 

reshaven,  dainty,  and  decked,  the  Sire  de  Qraville  bowed, 
and  sighed,  and  prayed  before  the  refection  set  out  in  the 
abbot's  cell. 

The  two  Normans,  despite  the  sharp  appetite  of  the 
layman,  ate  with  great  gravity  and  decorum,  drawing 
forth  the  morsels  served  to  them  on  spits  with  silent 
examination ;  seldom  more  than  tasting,  with  looks  of 
patient  dissatisfaction,  each  of  the  comestibles ;  sipping 
rather  than  drinking,  nibbling  rather  than  devouring, 
washing  their  fingers  in  rose-water  with  nice  care  at  the 
close,  and  waving  them  afterwards  gracefully  in  the  air, 
to  allow  the  moisture  somewhat  to  exhale  before  they 
wiped  off  the  lingering  dews  with  their  napkins.  Then 
they  exchanged  looks  and  sighed  in  concert,  as  if  recall- 
ing the  polished  manners  of  Normandy,  still  retained  in 
that  desolate  exile.  And  their  temperate  meal  thus  con- 
cluded, dishes,  wines,  and  attendants  vanished,  and  their 
talk  commenced. 

"  How  earnest  thou  in  England  ? "  asked  the  abbot 
abruptly. 

"  Sauf  your  reverence,"  answered  De  Graville,  "  not 
wholly  for  reasons  different  from  those  that  bring  thee 
hither.  When,  after  the  death  of  that  truculent  and 
orgulous  Godwin,  King  Edward  entreated  Harold  to  let 
him  have  back  some  of  his  dear  Norman  favorites,  thou, 
then  little  pleased  with  the  plain  fare  and  sharp  discipline 
of  the  convent  of  Bee,  didst  pray  Bishop  William  of 
Loudon  to  accompany  such  train  as  Harold,  moved  by 
his  poor  king's  supplication,  was  pleased  to  permit.    The 


HAROLD.  321 

bishop  consented,  and  thou  wert  enabled  to  change 
monk's  cowl  for  abbot's  mitre.  In  a  word,  ambition 
brought  thee  to  England,  and  ambition  brings  me  hither." 

"Hem!  and  how?  Mayst  thou  thrive  better  than  I 
in  this  swine-sty  !  " 

"You  remember,"  renewed  De  Graville,  "that  Lan- 
frauc,  the  Lombard,  was  pleased  to  take  interest  in  my 
fortunes,  then  not  the  most  flourishing,  and  after  his  re- 
turn from  Rome,  with  the  pope's  dispensation  for  Count 
William's  marriage  with  his  cousin,  he  became  William's 
most  trusted  adviser.  Both  William  and  Lanfranc  were 
desirous  to  set  an  example  of  learning  to  our  Latinless 
nobles,  and  therefore  my  scholarship  found  grace  in  their 
eyes.  In  brief— since  then  I  have  prospered  and  thriven. 
I  have  fair  lands  by  the  Seine,  free  from  clutch  of  mer- 
chant and  Jew.  I  have  founded  a  convent,  and  slain 
some  hundreds  of  Breton  marauders.  Need  I  say  that  I 
am  in  high  favor  ?  Now  it  so  chanced  that  a  cousin  of 
mine,  Hugo  de  Magnaville,  a  brave  lance  and  franc-rider, 
chanced  to  murder  his  brother  in  a  little  domestic  affray, 
and,  being  of  conscience  tender  and  nice,  the  deed  preyed 
on  him,  and  he  gave  his  lands  to  Odo  of  Bayeux,  and  set 
off  to  Jerusalem.  There,  having  prayed  at  the  Tomb 
(the  knight  crossed  himself),  he  felt  at  once  miraculously 
cheered  and  relieved ;  but,  journeying  back,  mishaps 
befell  him.  He  was  made  slave  by  some  infidel,  to  one 
of  whose  wives  he  sought  to  be  gallant,  par  amoiirs,  and 
only  escaped  at  last  by  setting  fire  to  paynim  and  prison. 
Now,  by  the  aid  of  the  Virgin,  he  has  got  back  to  Rouen, 

Y 


322  HAROLD. 

and  holds  his  own  land  again  in  fief  from  proud  Odo,  as 
a  knight  of  the  bishop's.  It  so  happened  that,  passing 
homeward  through  Lycia,  before  these  misfortunes  befell 
him,  he  made  friends  with  a  fellow-pilgrim  who  had  just 
returned,  like  himself,  from  the  Sepulchre,  but  not  light- 
ened, like  him,  of  the  load  of  his  crime.  This  poor  palm- 
er lay  broken-hearted  and  dying  in  the  hut  of  an  eremite, 
where  my  cousin  took  shelter ;  and,  learning  that  Hugo 
was  on  his  way  to  Normandy,  he  made  himself  known  as 
Sweyn,  the  once  fair  and  proud  Earl  of  England,  eldest 
son  to  old  Godwin,  and  father  to  Haco,  whom  our  count 
still  holds  as  a  hostage.  He  besought  Hugo  to  intercede 
with  the  count  for  Haco's  speedy  release  and  return,  if 
King  Edward  assented  thereto  ;  and  charged  my  cousin, 
moreover,  with  a  letter  to  Harold,  his  brother,  which 
Hugo  undertook  to  send  over.  By  good  luck,  it  so 
chanced  that,  through  all  his  sore  trials,  cousin  Hugo 
kept  safe  round  his  neck  a  leaden  eflBgy  of  the  Virgin. 
The  infidels  disdained  to  rob  him  of  lead,  little  dreaming 
the  worth  which  the  sanctity  gave  to  the  metal.  To  the 
back  of  the  image  Hugo  fastened  the  letter,  and  so, 
though  somewhat  tattered  and  damaged,  he  had  it  still 
with  him  on  arriving  in  Rouen. 

"Knowing  then,  my  grace  with  the  count,  and  not, 
despite  absolution  and  pilgrimage,  much  wishing  to  trust 
himself  in  the  pfresence  of  William,  who  thinks  gravely 
of  fratricide,  he  prayed  me  to  deliver  the  message,  and 
ask  leave  to  send  to  England  the  letter." 

"  It  is  a  long  tale,"  quoth  the  abbot. 


HAROLD.  323 

"Patience,  my  father  !  I  am  nearly  at  the  end.  No- 
thing more  in  season  could  chance  for  my  fortunes.  Know 
that  "William  has  been  long  moody  and  anxious  as  to 
matters  in  England.  The  secret  accounts  he  receives 
from  the  Bishop  of  London  make  him  see  that  Edward's 
heart  is  much  alienated  from  him,  especially  since  the 
count  has  had  daughters  and  sons  ;  for,  as  thou  knowest, 
William  and  Edward  both  took  vows  of  chastity  in 
youth,*  and  William  got  absolved  from  his,  while  Edward 
hath  kept  firm  to  the  plight.  Not  long  ere  my  cousin 
came  back,  William  had  heard  that  Edward  had  ac- 
knowledged his  kinsman  as  natural  heir  to  his  throne. 
Grieved  and  troubled,  at  this,  William  had  said  in  my 
hearing,  '  Would  that  amidst  yon  statues  of  steel,  there 
were  some  cool  head  and  wise  tongue  I  could  trust  with 
my  interests  in  England  !  and  would  that  I  could  devise 
fitting  plea  and  excuse  for  an  envoy  to  Harold  the  Earl !  * 
Much  had  I  mused  over  these  words,  and  a  light-hearted 
man  was  Mallet  de  Graville  when,  with  Sweyn's  letter  in 
hand,  he  went  to  Lanfranc  the  Abbot  and  said,  '  Patron 
and  father  !  thou  knowest  that  I,  almost  alone  of  the  Nor- 
man knights,  have  studied  the  Saxon  language.  And  if 
the  duke  wants  messenger  and  plea,  here  stands  the  mes- 
senger, and  in  this  hand  is  the  plea.'  Then  I  told  my 
tale.  Lanfranc  went  at  once  to  Duke  William.  By  this 
time,  news  of  the  Atheling's  death  had  arrived,  and  things 
looked  more  bright  to  my  liege.  Duke  William  was 
pleased  to  summon  me  straightway,  and  give  me  his  in- 

*^  See  Note  to  Robert  of  Gloucester,  vol.  ii.  p.  372. 


324  HAROLD. 

structions.  So  over  the  sea  I  came  alone,  save  a  single 
squire,  reached  London,  learned  the  king  and  his  court 
were  at  Winchester  (but  with  them  I  had  little  to  do), 
and  that  Harold  the  Earl  was  at  the  head  of  his  forces 
in  Wales  against  Gryfifyth  the  Lion  King.  The  earl  had 
bent  in  haste  for  a  picked  and  chosen  band  of  his  own  re- 
tainers, on  his  demesnes  near  the  city.  These  I  joined, 
and  learning  thy  name  at  the  monastery  at  Gloucester,  I 
stopped  here  to  tell  thee  my  news  and  hear  thine." 

"Dear  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  enviously  on 
the  knight,  "  would  that,  like  thee,  instead  of  entering 
the  Church,  I  had  taken  up  arms  !  Alike  once  was  our 
lot,  well-born  and  penniless.  Ah  me  ! — Thou  art  now  as 
the  swan  on  the  river,  and  I  as  the  shell  on  the  rock." 

"But,"  quoth  the  knight,  "though  the  canons,  it  is 
true,  forbid  monks  to  knock  people  on  the  head,  except 
in  self-preservation,  thou  knowest  well  that,  even  in 
Normandy  (which,  I  take  it,  is  the  sacred  college  of  all 
priestly  lore,  on  this  side  the  Alps),  those  canons  are 
deemed  too  rigorous  for  practice ;  and,  at  all  events,  it  is 
not  forbidden  thee  to  look  on  the  pastime  with  sword  or 
mace  by  thy  side  in  case  of  need.  Wherefore,  remember- 
ing thee  in  times  past,  I  little  counted  on  finding  thee — 
like  a  slug  in  thy  cell  I  No  ;  but  with  mail  on  thy  back, 
the  canons  clean  forgotten,  and  helping  stout  Harold  to 
filiver  and  brain  these  turbulent  Welchmen." 

"Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  No  such  good  fortune  ! "  sighed 
the  tall  abbot.  "  Little,  despite  thy  former  sojourn  in 
London,  and  thy  lore  of  their  tongue,  knowest  thou  of 


HAROLD.  325 

these  unmannerly  Saxons.  Rarely  indeed  do  abbot  and 
prelate  ride  to  the  battle  ;  *  and  were  it  not  for  a  huge 
Danish  monk,  who  took  refuge  here  to  escape  mutilation 
for  robbery,  and  who  mistakes  the  Virgin  for  a  Yalkyr, 
and  St.  Peter  for  Thor, — were  it  not,  I  say,  that  we  now 
and  then  have  a  bout  at  sword-play  together,  ray  arm 
would  be  quite  out  of  practice." 

"  Cheer  thee,  old  friend,"  said  the  knight,  pityingly  ; 
"  better  times  may  come  yet.  Meanwhile,  now  to  affairs. 
For  all  I  hear  strengthens  all  William  has  heard,  that 
Harold  the  Earl  is  the  first  man  in  England.  Is  it  not 
so?" 

"Truly,  and  without  dispute." 

"Is  he  married  or  celibate  ?  For  that  is  a  question 
which  even  his  own  men  seem  to  answer  equivocally." 

"  Why,  all  the  wandering  minstrels  have  songs,  I  am 
told  by  those  who  comprehend  this  poor  barbarous 
tongue,  of  the  beauty  of  Editha  pulchra,  to  whom  it  is 
said  the  earl  is  betrothed,  or  it  may  be  worse.  But  he  is 
certainly  not  married,  for  the  dame  is  akin  to  him  within 
the  degrees  of  the  Church." 

"  Hem,  not  married  !  that  is  well ;  and  this  Algar,  or 
Elgar,  he  is  not  now  with  the  Welch,  I  hear  ?  " 

*  The  Saxon  priests  were  strictly  forbidden  to  bear  arms.  — 
Spelm.  Concil.  p.  238. 

It  is  mentioned  in  the  English  Chronicles,  as  a  very  extraordi- 
nary circumstance,  that  a  bishop  of  Hereford,  who  had  been  Ha- 
rold's chaplain,  did  actually  take  sword  and  shield  against  the 
Welch.  Unluckily,  this  valiant  prelate  was  slain  so  soon,  that  it 
"was  no  encouraging  example. 

I.— 28 


326  HAROLD. 

"  No  ;  sore  ill  at  Chester  with  wounds  and  much 
chafing,  for  he  hath  sense  to  see  that  his  cause  is  lost. 
The  Norwegian  fleet  have  been  scattered  over  the  seas 
by  the  earl's  ships,  like  birds  in  a  storm.  The  rebel 
Saxons  who  joined  Gryffyth  under  Algar  have  been  so 
beaten,  that  those  who  survive  have  deserted  their  chief, 
and  Gryffyth  himself  is  penned  up  in  his  last  defiles,  and 
cannot  much  longer  resist  the  stout  foe,  w^ho,  by  valor- 
ous St.  Michael,  is  truly  a  great  captain.  As  soon  as 
Gryffyth  is  subdued,  Algar  will  be  crushed  in  his  retreat, 
like  a  bloated  spider  in  his  web  ;  and  then  England  will 
have  rest,  unless  our  liege,  as  thou  hintest,  set  her  to 
work  again." 

The  Norman  knight  mused  a  few  moments,  before  he 
said, — 

*'  I  understand,  then,  that  there  is  no  man  in  the  land 
who  is  peer  to  Harold  :  —  not,  I  suppose,  Tostig  his 
brother  ? " 

"  Not  Tostig,  surely,  whom  nought  but  Harold's  re- 
pute keeps  a  day  in  his  earldom.  But  of  late — for  he  is 
brave  and  skilful  in  war — he  hath  done  much  to  command 
the  respect,  though  he  cannot  win  back  the  love,  of  his 
fierce  Northumbrians,  for  he  hath  holpen  the  earl  gal- 
lantly in  this  invasion  of  Wales,  both  by  sea  and  by  land. 
But  Tostig  shines  only  from  his  brother's  light ;  and  if 
Gurth  were  more  ambitious,  Gurth  alone  could  be  Ha- 
rold's rival." 

The  Norman,  much  satisfied  with  the  information  thus 
gleaned  from  the  abbot,  who,  despite  his  ignorance  of 


HAROLD.  32T 

the  Saxon  tongue,  was,  like  all  his  countrymen,  acute 
and  curious,  now  rose  to  depart.  The  abbot,  detaining 
him  a  few  moments,  and  looking  at  him  wistfully,  said  in 
a  low  voice, — 

"What  thinkest  thou  are  C^yHrt'Wmtata^-^hances  of 
England  ?  "  /^  o'^\ '  I  -    /  f    n^\^ 

"  Good,  if  he  have  recfjarse  to  stratagem ;  sure,  ir\e 
can  win  Harold." 

"  Yet,  take  my  word,  J^  English  love  not  the  Nc 
mans,  and  will  fight  stiffly."^ 

"  That  I  believe.  But  if  fighT?Ti^  must  be,  I  see  that 
it  will  be  the  fight  of  a  single  battle,  for  there  is  neither 
fortress  nor  mountain  to  admit  of  long  warfare.  And 
look  you,  my  friend,  everything  here  is  worii  out!  The 
royal  line  is  extinct  with  Edward,  save  in  a  child,  whom 
I  hear  no  man  name  as  a  successor;  the  old  nobility  are 
gone  ;  there  is  no  reverence  for  old  names  ;  the  Church 
is  as  decrepit  in  the  spirit  as  thy  lath  monastery  is  de- 
cayed in  its  timbers ;  the  martial  spirit  of  the  Saxon  is 
half  rotted  away  in  the  subjugation  to  a  clergy,  not 
brave  and  learned,  but  timid  and  ignorant ;  the  desire 
for  money  eats  up  all  manhood  ;  the  people  have  been 
accustomed  to  foreign  monarchs  under  the  Danes ;  and 
William,  once  victor,  would  have  but  to  promise  to  re- 
tain the  old  laws  and  liberties,  to  establish  himself  as 
firmly  as  Canute.  The  Anglo-Danes  might  trouble  him 
somewhat,  but  rebellion  would  become  a  weapon  in  the 
hands  of  a  schemer  like  William.  He  would  bristle  all 
the  laud  with  castles  and  forts,  and  hold  it  as  a  camp. 


328  HAROLD. 

My  poor  friend,  we  shall  live  yet  to  exchange  gratula- 
tions, — thou  prelate  of  some  fair  English  see,  and  I  baron 
of  broad  English  lands." 

"I  think  thou  art  right,"  said  the  tall  abbot,  cheerily, 
"and  marry,  when  the  day  comes,  I  will  at  least  fight 
for  the  duke.  Yea  —  thou  art  right,"  he  continued, 
looking  round  the  dilapidated  walls  of  the  cell ;  "  all 
here  is  worn  out,  and  nought  can  restore  the  realm,  save 
the  Norman  William,  or " 

"Or  who?" 

"  Or  the  Saxon  Harold.  But  thou  goest  to  see  him  — 
judge  for  thyself." 

"  I  will  do  so,  and  heedfully,"  said  the  Sire  de  Graville ; 
and  embracing  his  friend,  he  renewed  his  journey. 


CHAPTER   YII. 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  possessed  in  perfection 
that  cunning  astuteness  which  characterized  the  Nor- 
mans, as  it  did  all  the  old  pirate  races  of  the  Baltic  ; 
and  if,  0  reader,  thou,  peradventure,  shouldst  ever  in 
this  remote  day  have  dealings  with  the  tall  men  of  Ebor 
or  Yorkshire,  there  wilt  thou  yet  find  the  old  Dane- 
father's  wit  —  it  may  be  to  thy  cost  —  more  especially  if 
treating  for  those  animals  which  the  ancestors  ate,  and 
which  the  sons,  without  eating,  still  manage  to  fatten  on. 


HAROLD.  329 

But  though  the  crafty  knight  did  his  best,  during  his 
progress  from  London  into  Wales,  to  extract  from  Sex- 
wolf  all  such  particulars  respecting  Harold  and  his 
brethren  as  he  had  reasons  for  wishing  to  learn,  he  found 
the  stubborn  sagacity  or  caution  of  the  Saxon  more  than 
a  match  for  him.  Sexwolf  had  a  dog's  instinct  in  all 
that  related  to  his  master ;  and  he  felt,  though  he  scarce 
knew  why,  that  the  Norman  cloaked  some  design  upon 
Harold  in  all  the  cross-questionings  so  carelessly  ven- 
tured. And  his  stiff  silence,  or  bluff  replies,  when  Harold 
was  mentioned,  contrasted  much  the  unreserve  of  his  talk 
when  it  turned  upon  the  general  topics  of  the  day,  or  the 
peculiarities  of  Saxon  manners. 

By  degrees,  therefore,  the  knight,  chafed  and  foiled, 
drew  into  himself;  and  seeing  no  farther  use  could  be 
made  of  the  Saxon,  suffered  his  own  national  scorn  of 
villein  companionship  to  replace  his  artificial  urbanity. 
He  therefore  rode  alone,  and  a  little  in  advance  of  the 
rest,  noticing  with  a  soldier's  eye  the  characteristics  of 
the  country,  and  marvelling,  while  he  rejoiced,  at  the 
insignificance  of  the  defences  which,  even  on  the  marches, 
guarded  the  English  country  from  the  Cymrian  ravager. 
In  musings  of  no  very  auspicious  and  friendly  nature 
towards  the  land  he  thus  visited,  the  Norman,  on  the 
second  day  from  that  in  which  he  had  conversed  with  the 
abbot,  found  himself  amongst  the  savage  defiles  of  North 
Wales. 

Pausing  there  in  a  narrow  pass  overhung  with  wild 
and  desolate  rocks,  the  knight  deliberately  summoned  his 


330  HAROLD. 

squires,  clad  himself  in  his  ring-mail,  and  mounted  his 
great  destrier. 

"  Thou  dost  wrong,  Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  thou 
fatiguest  thyself  in  vain  —  heavy  arms  here  are  needless. 
I  have  fought  in  this  country  before ;  and  as  for  thy 
steed,  thou  wilt  soon  have  to  forsake  it,  and  march  on 
foot." 

*'Know,  friend,"  retorted  the  knight,  "that  I  come  not 
here  to  learn  the  horn-book  of  war ;  and,  for  the  rest, 
know  also,  that  a  noble  of  Normandy  parts  with  his  life 
ere  he  forsakes  his  good  steed." 

"  Ye  outlanders  and  Frenchmen,"  said  Sexwolf,  show- 
ing the  whole  of  his  teeth  through  his  forest  of  beard, 
"love  boast  and  big  talk;  and,  on  my  troth,  thou 
mayest  have  thy  belly  full  of  them  yet ;  for  we  are  still 
in  the  track  of  Harold,  and  Harold  never  leaves  behind 
him  a  foe.  Thou  art  as  safe  here  as  if  singing  psalms  in 
a  convent." 

"  For  thy  jests,  let  them  pass,  courteous  sir,"  said  the 
Norman  ;  "  but  I  pray  thee  only  not  to  call  me  French- 
man.*    I  impute  it  to  thy  ignorance  in  things  comely 

*  The  Normans  and  French  detested  each  other ;  and  it  was  the 
Norman  who  taught  to  the  Saxon  his  own  animosities  against  tlie 
Frank.  A  very  eminent  antiquary,  indeed,  De  la  Rue,  considered 
that  the  Bayeux  tapestry  could  not  be  the  work  of  Matilda,  or  her 
age,  because  in  it  the  Normans  are  called  French;  but  that  is  a 
gross  blunder  on  his  part ;  for  William,  in  his  own  charters,  calls 
the  Normans  "  Franci."  Wace,  in  his  "Roman  de  Rou,"  often 
styles  the  Normans  "French;"  and  AVilliam  of  Poitiers,  a  contem- 
porary of  the  Conqueror,  gives  them  also  in  one  passage  the  same 


HAROLD.  331 

and  martial,  and  not  to  thy  design  to  insult  me.  Though 
my  own  mother  was  French,  learn  that  a  Norman  despises 
a  Frank  only  less  than  he  doth  a  Jew." 

"Crave  your  grace,"  said  the  Saxon,  "but  I  thought 
all  ye  outlanders  were  the  same,  rib  and  rib,  sibbe  and 
sibbe." 

"  Thou  wilt  know  better  one  of  these  days.  March 
on,  Master  Sexwolf." 

The  pass  gradually  opened  on  a  wide  patch  of  rugged 
and  herbless  waste  ;  and  Sexwolf,  riding  up  to  the  knight, 
directed  his  attention  to  a  stone,  on  which  was  inscribed 
the  words,  ''Hie  victor  fuit  Haroldus.^^  —  Here  Harold 
conquered. 

"  In  sight  of  a  stone  like  that,  no  Walloon  dare  come," 
said  the  Saxon. 

"A  simple  and  classical  trophy,"  remarked  the  Nor- 
man, complacently,  "  and  saith  much.  I  am  glad  to  see 
thy  lord  knows  the  Latin." 

"I  say  not  that  he  knows  Latin,"  replied  the  prudent 
Saxon  ;  fearing  that  that  could  be  no  wholesome  infor- 
mation on  his  lord's  part,  which  was  of  a  kind  to  give 
gladness  to  the  Norman  —  "Ride  on  while  the  road  lets 
ye  —  in  God's  name." 

On  the  confines  of  Caernarvonshire,  the  troop  halted 
at  a  small  village,  round  which  had  been  newly  dug  a 
deep  military  trench,  bristling  with  palisades,  and  within 

name.  Still,  it  is  true  that  the  Normans  were  generally  very 
tenacious  of  their  distinction  from  their  gallant  but  hostile  neigh- 
bors. 


332  HAROLD. 

its  confines  might  be  seen  —  some  reclined  on  the  grass, 
some  at  dice,  some  drinking  —  many  men,  whose  garbs 
of  tanned  hide,  as  well  as  a  pennon  waving  from  a  little 
mound  in  the  midst,  bearing  the  tiger-heads  of  Earl 
Harold's  insignia,  showed  them  to  be  Saxons. 

*'  Here  we  shall  learn,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  what  the  earl 
is  about  —  and  here,  at  present,  ends  my  journey." 

"Are  these  the  earl's  head-quarters  then  ?  —  no  castle, 
even  of  wood — no  wall,  nought  but  ditch  and  palisades  ?" 
asked  Mallet  de  Graville  in  a  tone  between  surprise  and 
contempt. 

"Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "the  castle  is  there,  though 
you  see  it  not,  and  so  are  the  walls.  The  castle  is  Harold's 
name,  which  no  Walloon  will  dare  to  confront ;  and  the 
walls  are  the  heaps  of  the  slain  which  lie  in  every  valley 
around."  So  saying,  he  wound  his  horn,  which  was 
speedily  answered,  and  led  the  way  over  a  plank  which 
admitted  across  the  trench. 

"  Not  even  a  drawbridge  I "  groaned  the  knight. 

Sexwolf  exchanged  a  few  words  with  one  who  seemed 
the  head  of  the  small  garrison,  and  then  regaining  the 
Norman,  said,  "the  earl  and  his  men  have  advanced  into 
the  mountainous  regions  of  Snowdon  ;  and  there,  it  is 
said,  the  blood-lusting  Gryfifyth  is  at  length  driven  to  bay. 
Harold  hath  left  orders  that,  after  as  brief  a  refreshment 
as  may  be,  I  and  my  men,  taking  the  guide  he  hath  left 
for  us,  join  him  on  foot.  There  may  now  be  danger  :  for, 
though  Gryffyth  himself  may  be  pinned  to  his  heights,  he 
may  have  yet  some  friends  in  these  parts  to  start  up  from 


HAROLD  333 

crag  and  combe.  The  way  on  horse  is  impassable  : 
wherefore,  master  Norman,  as  our  quarrel  is  not  thine  nor 
thine  our  lord,  I  commend  thee  to  halt  here  in  peace  and 
in  safety,  with  the  sick  and  the  prisoners." 

"It  is  a  merry  companionship,  doubtless,"  said  the 
Norman  ;  "  but  one  travels  to  learn,  and  I  would  fain  see 
somewhat  of  thine  uncivil  skirmishings  with  these  men 
of  the  mountains ;  wherefore,  as  I  fear  my  poor  mules 
are  light  of  the  provender,  give  me  to  eat  and  to  drink. 
And  then  shalt  thou  see,  should  we  come  in  sight  of  the 
enemy,  if  a  Norman's  big  words  are  the  sauce  of  small 
deeds." 

"Well  spoken,  and  better  than  I  reckoned  on,''  said 
Sexwolf,  heartily. 

While  De  Graville,  alighting,  sauntered  about  the 
village,  the  rest  of  the  troop  exchanged  greetings  with 
their  countrymen.  It  was,  even  to  the  warrior's  eye,  a 
mournful  scene.  Here  and  there,  heaps  of  ashes  and  ruin 
— houses  riddled  and  burned— the  small,  humble  church, 
untouched  indeed  by  war,  but  looking  desolate  and  for- 
lorn— with  sheep  grazing  on  large  recent  mounds  thrown 
over  the  brave  dead,  who  slept  in  the  ancestral  spot  they 
had  defended. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  the  spicy  smells  of  the  gale 
or  bog-myrtle  ;  and  the  village  lay  sequestered  in  a  scene 
wild  indeed  and  savage,  but  prodigal  of  a  stern  beauty 
to  which  the  Norman,  poet  by  race,  and  scholar  by  cul- 
ture, was  not  insensible.  Seating  himself  on  a  rude  stone, 
apart  from  all  the  warlike  and   murmuring  groups,  he 


834  HAROLD. 

looked  forth  on  the  dim  and  vast  mountain-peaks,  and 
the  rivulet  that  rushed  below,  intersecting  the  village,  and 
lost  amidst  copses  of  mountain-ash.  From  these  more 
refined  contemplations,  he  was  roused  by  Sexwolf,  who, 
with  greater  courtesy  than  was  habitual  to  him,  accom- 
panied the  theowes  who  brought  the  knight  a  repast,  con- 
sisting of  cheese,  and  small  pieces  of  seethed  kid,  with  a 
large  horn  of  very  indifferent  mead. 

"  The  earl  puts  all  his  men  on  Welch  diet,"  said  the 
captain  apologetically  ;  "  for,  indeed,  in  this  lengthy  war- 
fare, nought  else  is  to  be  had  ! " 

The  knight  curiously  inspected  the  cheese,  and  bent 
earnestly  over  the  kid. 

"  It  sufficeth,  good  Sexwolf,"  said  he,  suppressing  a 
natural  sigh  :  "but  instead  of  this  honey-drink,  which  is 
more  fit  for  bees  than  for  men,  get  me  a  draught  of  fresh 
water:  water  is  your  only  safe  drink  before  fighting." 

"  Thou  hast  never  drunk  ale,  then  !  "  said  the  Saxon  ; 
"but  thy  foreign  tastes  shall  be  heeded,  strange  man." 

A  little  after  noon  the  horns  were  sounded,  and  the 
troop  prepared  to  depart.  But  the  Norman  observed 
that  they  had  left  behind  all  their  horses ;  and  his  squire 
approaching,  informed  him  that  Sexwolf  had  positively 
forbidden  the  knight's  steed  to  be  brought  forth. 

"Was  it  ever  heard  before,"  cried  Sire  Mallet  de  Gra- 
ville,  "that  a  Norman  knight  was  expected  to  walk,  and 
to  walk  against  a  foe  too  !  Call  hither  the  villein, — that 
is,  the  captain." 

But  Sexwolf  himself  here  appeared,  and  to  him  De 


HAROLD.  335 

Graville  addressed"  his  indignant  remonstrance.  The 
Saxon  stood  firm,  and  to  each  argument  replied  simply, 
"  It  is  the  earl's  orders ; "  and  finally  wound  up  with  a 
bluflf —  "  Go,  or  let  alone  ;  stay  here  with  thy  horse,  or 
march  with  us  on  thy  feet." 

"  My  horse  is  a  gentleman,"  answered  the  knight, 
"  and,  as  such,  would  be  my  more  fitting  companion  ;  but, 
as  it  is,  I  yield  to  compulsion  —  I  bid  thee  solemnly  ob- 
serve, by  compulsion  ;  so  that  it  may  never  be  said  of 
William  Mallett  de  Graville,  that  he  walked,  bon  gre,  to 
battle."  With  that,  he  loosened  his  sword  in  the  sheath, 
and,  still  retaining  his  ring-mail,  fitting  close  as  a  shirt, 
strode  on  with  the  rest. 

A  Welch  guide,  subject  to  one  of  the  under-kings  (who 
was  in  allegiance  to  England,  and  animated,  as  many  of 
those  petty  chiefs  were,  with  a  vindictive  jealousy  against 
the  rival  tribe  of  Gryifyth,  far  more  intense  than  his  dis- 
like of  the  Saxon),  led  the  way. 

The  road  wound  for  some  time  along  the  course  of  the 
river  Conway ;  Penmaen-mawr  loomed  before  them. 
Not  a  human  being  came  in  sight,  not  a  goat  was  seen 
on  the  distant  ridges,  not  a  sheep  on  the  pastures.  The 
solitude  in  the  glare  of  the  broad  August  sun  was  op- 
pressive. Some  houses  they  passed  —  if  buildings  of 
rough  stones,  containing  but  a  single  room,  can  be  called 
houses  —  but  they  were  deserted.  Desolation  preceded 
their  way,  for  they  were  on  the  track  of  Harold  the 
Victor.  At  length,  they  passed  the  old  Conovium,  now 
Caer-hen,  lying  near  the  river.     There  were  still  (not  as 


336  HAROLD. 

we  now  scarcely  discern  them,  after  centuries  of  havoc) 
the  mighty  ruins  of  the  Romans, — vast  shattered  walls, 
a  tower  half  demolished,  visible  remnants  of  gigantic 
baths,  and,  proudly  rising  near  the  present  ferry  of  Tal- 
y-Cafn,  the  fortress,  almost  unmutilated,  of  Castell-y- 
Bryn.  On  the  castle  waved  the  pennon  of  Harold. 
Many  large  flat-bottomed  boats  were  moored  to  the 
river-side,  and  the  whole  place  bristled  with  spears  and 
javelins. 

Much  comforted  (for,  —  though  he  disdained  to  mur- 
mur, and  rather  than  forego  his  mail,  would  have  died 
therein  a  martyr,  —  Mallett  de  Graville  was  mightily 
wearied  by  the  weight  of  his  steel),  and  hoping  now  to 
see  Harold  himself,  the  knight  sprang  forward  with  a 
spasmodic  effort  at  liveliness,  and  found  himself  in  the 
midst  of  a  group,  among  whom  he  recognized  at  a  glance 
his  old  acquaintance,  Godrith.  Doffing  his  helm  with  its 
long  nose-piece,  he  caught  the  thegn's  hand,  and  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  Well  met,  ventre  de  Guillaume  1  well  met,  0  Godree, 
the  debonnair  !  Thou  rememberest  Mallett  de  Graville, 
and  in  this  unseemly  guise,  on  foot,  and  with  villeins, 
sweating  under  the  eyes  of  plebeian  Phoebus,  thou  be- 
holdest  that  much-suffering  man  ! " 

"Welcome,  indeed,"  returned  Godrith,  with  some  em- 
barrassment; ''but  how  camest  thou  hither,  and  whom 
seekest  thou  ?  " 

"Harold,  thy  count,  man  —  and  I  trust  he  is  here." 

"  Not  so,  but  not  far  distant — at  a  place  by  the  mouth 


HAROLD.  337 

of  the  river  called  Caer  Gyffin.*  Thou  shalt  tak'e  boat, 
and  be  there  ere  the  sunset." 

"Is  a  battle  at  hand?  Yon  churl  disappointed  and 
tricked  me ;  he  promised  me  danger,  and  not  a  soul  have 
we  met." 

"Harold's  besom  sweeps  clean,"  answered  Godrith, 
smiling;  "but  thou  art  like,  perhaps,  to  be  in  at  the 
death.  We  have  driven  this  Welch  lion  to  bay  at  last — 
he  is  ours,  or  grim  Famine's.  Look  yonder  ;  "  and  God- 
rith pointed  to  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr.  "Even 
at  this  distance  you  may  yet  descry  something  grey  and 
dim  against  the  sky." 

"Deemest  thou  my  eye  so  ill  practised  in  siege,  as  not 
to  see  towers  ?  Tall  and  massive  they  are,  though  they 
seem  here  as  airy  as  masts,  and  as  dwarfish  as  landmarks." 

"  On  that  hill-top,  and  in  those  towers,  is  Gryflfyth,  the 
Welch  king,  with  the  last  of  his  force.  He  cannot  escape 
us ;  our  ships  guard  all  the  coasts  of  the  shore  ;  our 
troops,  as  here,  surround  every  pass.  Spies,  night  and 
day,  keep  watch.  The  Welch  moels  (or  beacon-rocks) 
are  manned  by  our  warders ;  and,  were  the  Welch  king 
to  descend,  signals  would  blaze  from  post  to  post,  and 
gird  him  with  fire  and  sword.  From  land  to  land,  from 
hill  to  hill,  from  Hereford  to  Caerleon,  from  Caerleon  to 
Milford,  from  Milford  to  Snowdon,  through  Snowdon  to 
yonder  fort,  built,  they  say,  by  the  fiends  or  the  giants, 
—  through  defile  and  through  forest,  over  rock,  through 


*  The  present  town  and  castle  of  Conwny. 
I. —29  w 


338  HAROLD. 

morass,  we  have  pressed  on  his  heels.  Battle  and  foray 
alike  have  drawn  the  blood  from  his  heart;  and  thou 
wilt  have  seen  the  drops  yet  red  on  the  way,  where  the 
stone  tells  that  Harold  was  victor." 

"A  brave  man  and  true  king,  then,  this  GryfiTyth,"  said 
the  Jforman,  with  some  admiration;  "but,"  he  added  in 
a  colder  tone,  '*  I  confess,  for  my  own  part,  that  though 
I  pity  the  valiant  man  beaten,  I  honor  the  brave  man 
who  wins  ;  and  though  I  have  seen  but  little  of  this  rough 
land  as  yet,  I  can  well  judge  from  what  I  have  seen,  that 
no  captain,  not  of  patience  unwearied,  and  skill  most  con- 
summate, could  conquer  a  bold  enemy  in  a  country  where 
every  rock  is  a  fort." 

"So  I  fear,"  answered  Godrith,  "that  my  countryman 
Rolf  found  ;  for  the  Welch  beat  him  sadly,  and  the  reason 
was  plain.  He  insisted  on  using  horses  where  no  horses 
could  climb,  and  attiring  men  in  full  armor  to  fight 
against  men  light  and  nimble  as  swallows,  that  skim  the 
earth,  then  are  lost  in  the  clouds.  Harold,  more  wise, 
turned  our  Saxons  into  Welchmen,  flying  as  they  flew, 
climbing  where  they  climbed  ;  it  has  been  as  a  war  of  the 
birds.  And  now  there  rests  but  the  eagle,  in  his  last 
lonely  eyrie." 

'Thy  battles  have  improved  thy  eloquence  much, 
Messire  Godree,"  said  the  Norman  condescendingly. 
"Nevertheless,  I  cannot  but  think  a  few  light  horse " 

"Could  scale  yon  mountain  brow?"  said  Godrith, 
laughing,  and  pointing  to  Penniaen-mawr, 

"  The  Norman  looked  and  was  silent,  though  he  thought 
to  himself,  "  That  Sexwolf  was  no  such  dolt  after  all !" 


BOOK    SEVENTH 


THE   WELCH   KING. 


CHAPTER   I. 

The  sun  had  just  cast  its  last  beams  over  the  breadth 
of  water  into  which  Conway,  or  rather  Cjn-wy,  "the 
great  river,"  emerges  its  winding  waves.  Not  at  that 
time  existed  the  matchless  castle,  which  is  now  the  mo- 
nument of  Edward  Plantagenet,  and  the  boast  of  Wales. 
But  besides  all  the  beauty  the  spot  took  from  nature,  it 
had  even  some  claim  from  ancient  art.  A  rude  fortress 
rose  above  the  stream  of  Gyffin,  out  of  the  wrecks  of 
some  greater  Roman  hold,*  and  vast  ruins  of  a  former 
town  lay  round  it ;  while  opposite  the  fort,  on  tlie  huge 
and  ragged  promontory  of  Gogarth,  might  still  be  seen, 
forlorn  and  grey,  the  wrecks  of  the  imperial  city,  de- 
stroyed ages  before  by  lightning. 

All  these  remains  of  a  power  and  a  pomp  that  Rome 
in  vain  had  bequeathed  to  the  Briton,  were  full  of  pa- 

*  See  Camden's  Britannia,  ♦'  Caernarvonshire." 

(339) 


340  HAROLD.  g 

thetic  and  solemn  interest,  when  blent  with  the  thought, 
that  on  yonder  steep,  the  brave  prince  of  a  race  of 
heroes,  whose  line  transcended,  by  ages,  all  the  other 
royalties  of  the  North,  awaited,  amidst  the  ruins  of  man, 
and  in  the  stronghold  which  nature  yet  gave,  the  hour 
of  his  doom. 

But  these  were  not  the  sentiments  of  the  martial  and 
observant  Norman,  with  the  fresh  blood  of  a  new  race 
of  conquerors. 

"  In  this  land,"  thought  he,  "  far  more  even  than  in 
that  of  the  Saxon,  there  are  the  ruins  of  old  ;  and  when 
the  present  can  neither  maintain  nor  repair  the  past,  its 
future  is  subjection  or  despair." 

Agreeably  to  the  peculiar  usages  of  JSaxon  military 
skill,  which  seems  to  have  placed  all  strength  in  dykes 
and  ditches,  as  being  perhaps  the  cheapest  and  readiest 
outworks,  a  new  trench  had  been  made  round  the  fort, 
on  two  sides,  connecting  it  on  the  third  and  fourth  with 
the  streams  of  Gyffin  and  the  Conway.  But  the  boat 
was  rowed  up  to  the  very  walls,  and  the  Norman,  spring- 
ing to  land,  was  soon  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the 
earl. 

Harold  was  seated  before  a  rude  table,  and  bending 
over  a  rough  map  of  the  great  mountain  of  Penmaen  ; 
a  lamp  of  iron  stood  beside  the  map,  though  the  air  was 
yet  clear. 

The  earl  rose,  as  De  Graville,  entering  with  the  proud 
but  easy  grace  habitual  to  his  countrymen,  said,  in  his 
best  Saxon, — 


HAROLD.  341 

"  Hail  to  Earl  Harold  !  William  Mallet  de  Graville, 
the  Norman,  greets  him,  and  brings  him  news  from  be- 
yond the  seas." 

There  was  only  one  seat  in  that  bare  room  —  the  seat 
from  which  the  earl  had  risen.  He  placed  it  with  simple 
courtesy  before  his  visitor,  and,  leaning  himself  against 
the  table,  said,  in  the  Norman  tongue,  which  he  spoke 
fluently, — 

"It  is  no  slight  thanks  that  I  owe  to  the  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville, that  he  hath  undertaken  voyage  and  journey  on  my 
behalf;  but  before  you  impart  your  news,  I  pray  you  to 
take  rest  and  food." 

"  Rest  will  not  be  unwelcome  ;  and  food,  if  unrestricted 
to  goats'  cheese,  and  kid-flesh,  —  luxuries,  new  to  my 
palate, — will  not  be  untempting  ;  but  neither  food  nor 
rest  can  I  take,  noble  Harold,  before  I  excuse  myself,  as 
a  foreigner,  for  thus  somewhat  infringing  your  laws  by 
which  we  are  banished,  and  acknowledging  gratefully  the 
courteous  behavior  I  have  met  from  thy  countrymen  not- 
withstanding." 

''  Fair  Sir,"  answered  Harold,  "  pardon  us  if,  jealous 
of  our  laws,  we  have  seemed  inhospitable  to  those  who 
would  meddle  with  them.  But  the  Saxon  is  never  more 
pleased  than  when  the  foreigner  visits  him  only  as  the 
friend  :  to  the  many  who  settle  amongst  us  for  commerce 
— Fleming,  Lombard,  German,  and  Saracen — we  proffer 
shelter  and  welcome  ;  to  the  few  who,  like  thee,  Sir  Nor- 
man, venture  over  the  seas  but  to  serve  us,  we  give  frank 
cheer  and  free  hand." 
29* 


342  HAROLD. 

Agreeably  surprised  at  this  gracious  reception  from 
the  son  of  Godwin,  the  Norman  pressed  the  hand  ex- 
tended to  him,  and  then  drew  forth  a  small  case,  and 
related  accurately,  and  with  feeling,  the  meeting  of  his 
cousin  with  Sweyn,  and  Sweyn's  dying  charge. 

The  earl  listened,  with  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  and 
face  turned  from  the  lamp ;  and,  when  Mallet  had  con- 
cluded his  recital,  Harold  said,  with  an  emotion  he  strug- 
gled in  vain  to  repress, — 

"  I  thank  you  cordially,  gentle  Norman,  for  kindness 
kindly  rendered  !  I — I — "  The  voice  faltered.  "  Sweyn 
was  very  dear  to  me  in  his  sorrows  !  We  heard  that  he 
had  died  in  Lycia,  and  grieved  much  and  long.    So,  after 

he  had  thus  spoken  to  your  cousin,  he — he Alas  I    O 

Sweyn,  my  brother  I  " 

"  He  died,"  said  the  Norman,  soothingly  ;  "  but  shriven 
and  absolved  ;  and  my  cousin  says,  calm  and  hopeful,  as 
they  die  ever  who  have  knelt  at  the  Savior's  tomb  ! " 

Harold  bowed  his  head,  and  turned  the  case  that  held 
the  letter  again  and  again  in  his  hand,  but  would  not 
venture  to  open  it.  The  knight  himself,  touched  by  a 
grief  so  simple  and  manly,  rose  with  the  delicate  instinct 
that  belongs  to  sympathy,  and  retired  to  the  door,  with- 
out which  yet  waited  the  ofiQcer  who  had  conducted  him. 

Harold  did  not  attempt  to  detain  him,  but  followed 
him  across  the  threshold,  and  briefly  commanding  the 
officer  to  attend  to  his  guest  as  to  himself,  said  —  "With 
the  morning.  Sire  de  Graville,  we  shall  meet  again  ;  I  see 


HAROLD.  343 

that  you  are  one  to  whom  I  need  not  excuse  man's  na- 
tural emotions." 

"A  noble  presence  ! "  muttered  the  knight,  as  he  de- 
scended the  stairs  ;  "  but  he  hath  Norman,  at  least  Norse 
blood  in  his  veins  on  the  distaff  side  — Fair  Sir  !  " — (this 
aloud  to  the  officer)  —  "  any  meat  save  the  kid-flesh,  I 
pray  thee  ;   and  any  drink  save  the  mead  ! " 

" Fear  not,  guest,"  said  the  officer;  *'for  Tostig  the 
earl  hath  two  ships  in  yon  bay,  and  hath  sent  us  supplies 
that  would  please  Bishop  William  of  London  ;  for  Tostig 
the  Earl  is  a  toothsome  man." 

"  Commend  me,  then,  to  Tostig  the  Earl,"  said  the 
knight;  "he  is  an  earl  after  my  own  heart." 


CHAPTER    II. 

On  re-entering  the  room,  Harold  drew  the  large  bolt 
across  the  door,  opened  the  case,  and  took  forth  the  dis- 
tained  and  tattered  scroll :  — 

"  When  this  comes  to  thee,  Harold,  the  brother  of  thy 
childish  days  will  sleep  in  the  flesh,  and  be  lost  to  men's 
judgment  and  earth's  woe  in  the  spirit.  I  have  knelt  at 
the  Tomb ;  but  no  dove  hath  come  forth  from  the  cloud, 
— no  stream  of  grace  hath  re-baptized  the  child  of  wrath  ! 
They  tell  me,  now  —  monk  and  priest  tell  me  —  that  I 
have  atoned  all  my  sins ;  that  the  dread  weregeld  is 
paid ;  that  I  may  enter  the  world  of  men  with  a  spirit 


844  HAROLD. 

free  from  the  load,  and  a  name  redeemed  from  the  stain. 
Think  so,  0  brother  !  —  Bid  my  father  (if  he  still  lives, 
the  dear  old  man  !)  think  so  ;  —  tell  Githa  to  think  it; 
and  oh,  teach  Haco,  my  son,  to  hold  the  belief  as  a  truth  ! 
Harold,  again  I  commend  to  thee  my  son  ;  be  to  him  as 
a  father  !  My  death  surely  releases  him  as  a  hostage. 
Let  him  not  grow  up  in  the  court  of  the  stranger,  in  the 
land  of  our  foes.  Let  his  feet,  in  his  youth,  climb  the 
green  holts  of  England  ; — let  his  eyes,  ere  sin  dims  them, 
drink  the  blue  of  her  skies  I  When  this  shall  reach  thee, 
thou,  in  thy  calm,  effortless  strength,  will  be  more  great 
than  Godwin  our  father.  Power  came  to  him  with 
travail  and  through  toil,  the  geld  of  craft  and  of  force. 
Power  is  born  to  thee  as  strength  to  the  strong  man  ;  it 
gathers  around  thee  as  thou  movest ;  it  is  not  thine  aim, 
it  is  thy  nature  to  be  great.  Shield  my  child  with  thy 
might ;  lead  him  forth  from  the  prison-house  by  thy 
serene  right  hand  !  I  ask  not  for  lordships  and  earl- 
doms, as  the  appanage  of  his  father ;  train  him  not  to  be 
rival  to  thee  :  —  I  ask  but  for  freedom,  and  English  air  I 
So  counting  on  thee,  0  Harold,  I  turn  my  face  to  the 
wall,  and  hush  my  wild  heart  to  peace  1 " 

The  scroll  dropped  noiseless  from  Harold's  hand. 

"Thus,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "hath  passed  away  less 
a  life  than  a  dream  !  Yet  of  Sweyn,  in  our  childhood, 
was  Godwin  most  proud  ;  who  so  lovely  in  peace,  and  so 
terrible  in  wrath  ?  My  mother  taught  him  the  songs  of 
the  Baltic,  and  Hilda  led  his  steps  through  the  woodland 
with  tales  of  hero  and  scald.     Alone  of  our  House,  he 


HAROLD.  345 

had  the  gift  of  the  Dane  in  the  flow  of  fierce  song,  and 
for  him  things  lifeless  had  being.  Stately  tree,  from 
which  all  the  birds  of  heaven  sent  their  carol ;  where  the 
falcon  took  roost,  whence  the  mavis  flew  forth  in  its  glee, 
—  how  art  thou  blasted  and  seared,  bough  and  core  !  — 
smit  by  the  lightning  and  consumed  by  the  worm  ! " 

He  paused,  and,  though  none  were  by,  he  long  shaded 
his  brow  with  his  hand. 

"  Now,"  thought  he,  as  he  rose  and  slowly  paced  the 
chamber,  "now  to  what  lives  yet  on  earth  —  his  son  I 
Often  hath  my  mother  urged  me  in  behalf  of  these  hos- 
tages ;  and  often  have  I  sent  to  reclaim  them.  Smooth 
and  false  pretexts  have  met  my  own  demand,  and  even 
the  remonstrance  of  Edward  himself.  But  surely,  now 
that  "William  hath  permitted  this  Norman  to  bring  over 
the  letter,  he  will  assent  to  what  it  hath  become  a  wrong 
and  an  insult  to  refuse ;  and  Haco  will  return  to  his 
father's  land,  and  "Wolnoth  to  his  mother's  arms." 


"^ 


CHAPTER   III. 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  (as  becomes  a  man 
bred  up  to  arms,  and  snatching  sleep  with  quick  grasp 
whenever  that  blessing  be  his  to  command)  no  sooner 
laid  his  head  on  the  pallet  to  which  he  had  been  con- 
signed, than  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  senses  were  deaf 
even  to  dreams.     But  at  the  dead  of  the  midnight  he  was 


346  HAROLD. 

wakened  by  sounds  that  might  have  roused  the  Seven 
Sleepers  —  shouts,  cries,  and  yells,  the  blast  of  horns,  the 
tramp  of  feet,  and  the  more  distant  roar  of  hurrying 
multitudes.  He  leaped  from  his  bed,  and  the  whole 
chamber  was  filled  with  a  lurid  blood-red  air.  His  first 
thought  was  that  the  fort  was  on  fire.  But  springing 
upon  the  settle  along  the  wall,  and  looking  through  the 
loophole  of  the  tower,  it  seemed  as  if  not  the  fort  but  the 
whole  land  was  one  flame,  and  through  the  glowing 
atmosphere  he  beheld  all  the  ground,  near  and  far, 
swarming  with  men.  Hundreds  were  swimming  the 
rivulet,  clambering  up  dyke  mounds,  rushing  on  the 
levelled  spears  of  the  defenders,  breaking  through  line 
and  palisade,  pouring  into  the  enclosures  ;  some  in  half- 
armor  of  helm  and  corslet — others  in  linen  tunics — many 
almost  naked.  Loud  sharp  shrieks  of  "  Alleluia  !  "  * 
blended  with  those  of  "  Out !  out  I  Holy  crosse  !  "  f  He 
divined  at  once  that  the  Welch  were  storming  the  Saxon 
hold.     Short  time  indeed  sufficed  for  that  active  knight 

*  When  (a.  d.  220)  the  bishops,  Germanicus  and  Lupus,  headed 
the  Britons  against  the  Picts  and  Saxons,  in  Easter  week,  fresh 
from  their  baptism  in  the  Alyn,  Germanicus  ordered  them  to 
attend  to  his  war-cry,  and  repeat  it,  he  gave  "  Alleluia."  The 
hills  so  loudly  re-echoed  the  cry,  that  the  enemy  caught  panic,  and 
fled  with  great  slaughter.  Maes  Garmon,  in  Flintshire,  was  the 
scene  of  the  victory. 

•|-  The  cry  of  the  English  at  the  onset  of  battle  was  "  Holy  Crosse, 
God  Almighty ;  "  afterwards  in  fight,  "  Ouct,  ouct,"  out,  out,  — 
Ukabne's  Disc.  Antiqniiy  of  Motls. 

The  latter  cry  probably,  originated  in  the  habit  of  defending 
their  standard  and  central  posts  with  barricades  and  closed  shields ; 
and  thus,  idiomatically  and  vulgarly,  signified  ''get  out." 


HAROLD.  34t 

to  case  himself  in  his  mail ;  and,  sword  in  hand,  he  burst 
through  the  door,  cleared  the  stairs,  and  gained  the  hall 
below,  which  was  filled  with  men  arming  in  haste. 

"  Where  is  Harold  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  On  the  trenches  already,"  answered  Sexwolf,  buck- 
ling his  corslet  of  hide.  "  This  Welch  hell  hath  broke 
loose." 

"And  yon  are  their  beacon-fires  ?  Then  the  whole 
land  is  upon  us  !" 

"  Prate  less,"  quoth  Sexwolf;  "  those  are  the  hills  now 
held  by  the  warders  of  Harold  :  our  spies  gave  them 
notice,  and  the  watchfires  prepared  us  ere  the  fiends  came 
in  sight,  otherwise  we  had  been  lying  here  limbless  or 
headless.     Now,  men,  draw  up,  and  march  forth." 

"  Hold  !  hold  ! "  cried  the  pious  knight,  crossing  him- 
self, "  is  there  no  priest  here  to  bless  us  ?  first  a  prayer 
and  a  psalm  !  " 

"  Prayer  and  psalm  !  "  cried  Sexwolf,  astonished,  "  an' 
thou  hadst  said  ale  and  mead,  I  could  have  understood 
thee.  —  Out !     Out !  —  Holyrood,  Holyrood  !  " 

"  The  godless  paynims  !  "  muttered  the  Norman,  borne 
away  with  the  crowd. 

Once  in  the  open  space,  the  scene  was  terrific.  Brief 
as  had  been  the  onslaught,  the  carnage  was  already  un- 
speakable. By  dint  of  sheer  physical  numbers,  animated 
by  a  valor  that  seemed  as  the  frenzy  of  madmen  or  the 
hunger  of  wolves,  hosts  of  the  Britons  had  crossed  trench 
and  stream,  seizing  with  their  hands  the  points  of  the 
spears  opposed  to  them,  bounding  over  the  corpses  of 


348  HAROLD. 

their  countrymen,  and  with  yells  of  wild  joy  rushing  upon 
the  close  serried  lines  drawn  up  before  the  fort.  The 
stream  seemed  literally  to  run  gore  ;  pierced  by  javelins 
and  arrows,  corpses  floated  and  vanished,  while  numbers 
undeterred  by  the  havoc,  leaped  into  the  waves  from  the 
opposite  banks.  Like  bears  that  surround  the  ship  of  a 
sea-king  beneath  the  polar  meteors,  or  the  midnight  sun 
of  the  north,  came  the  savage  warriors  through  that 
glaring  atmosphere. 

Amidst  all,  two  forms  were  pre-eminent :  the  one,  tall 
and  towering,  stood  by  the  trench,  and  behind  a  banner, 
that  now  drooped  round  the  stave,  now  streamed  wide 
and  broad,  stirred  by  the  rush  of  men  —  for  the  night  in 
itself  was  breezeless.  With  a  vast  Danish  axe  wielded 
by  both  hands,  stood  this  man,  confronting  hundreds,  and 
at  each  stroke  rapid  as  the  levin,  fell  a  foe.  All  round 
him  was  a  wall  of  his  own  —  the  dead.  But  in  the  centre 
of  the  space,  leading  on  a  fresh  troop  of  shouting 
Welchmen  who  had  forced  their  way  from  another  part, 
was  a  form  which  seemed  charmed  against  arrow  and 
spear.  For  the  defensive  arms  of  this  chief  were  as 
slight  as  if  worn  but  for  ornament ;  a  small  corslet  of 
gold  covered  only  the  centre  of  his  breast,  a  gold  collar 
of  twisted  wires  circled  his  throat,  and  a  gold  bracelet 
adorned  his  bare  arm,  dropping  gore,  not  his  own,  from 
the  wrist  to  the  elbow.  He  was  small  and  slight  shaped 
. —  below  the  common  standard  of  men  —  but  he  seemed 
as  one  made  a  giant  by  the  sublime  inspiration  of  war. 
He  wore  no  helmet,  merely  a  golden  circlet ;   and  his 


HAROLD.  349 

hair,  of  deep  red  (longer  than  was  usual  with  the  Welch), 
bung  like  the  mane  of  a  lion  over  his  shoulders,  tossing 
loose  with  each  stride.  His  eyes  glared  like  the  tiger's 
at  night,  and  he  leaped  on  the  spears  with  a  bound. 
Lost  a  moment  amidst  hostile  ranks,  save  by  the  swift 
glitter  of  his  short  sword,  he  made,  amidst  all,  a  path  for 
himself  and  his  followers,  and  emerged  from  the  heart 
of  the  steel  unscathed  and  loud  breathing ;  while,  round 
the  line  he  had  broken,  wheeled  and  closed  his  wild  men, 
striking,  rushing,  slaying,  slain. 

^'Pardex,  this  is  war  worth  the  sharing,"  said  the 
knight.  "And  now,  worthy  Sexwolf,  thou  shalt  see  if 
the  Norman  is  the  vaunter  thou  deemest  him.  Dieu 
nous  aide!  Notre  Dame!  —  Take  the  foe  in  the  rear." 
But  turning  round,  he  perceived  that  Sexwolf  had  already 
led  his  men  towards  the  standard,  which  showed  them 
where  stood  the  earl,  almost  alone  in  his  peril.  The 
knight,  thus  left  to  himself,  did  not  hesitate  :  —  a  minute 
more  and  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Welch  force,  headed 
by  the  chief  with  the  golden  panoply.  Secure  in  his 
ring-mail  against  the  light  weapons  of  the  Welch,  the 
sweep  of  the  Norman  sword  was  as  the  scythe  of  Death. 
Right  and  left  he  smote  through  the  throng  which  he 
took  in  the  flank,  and  had  almost  gained  the  small 
phalanx  of  Saxons,  that  lay  firm  in  the  midst,  when  the 
Cymrian  chiefs  flashing  eye  was  drawn  to  this  new  and 
strange  foe,  by  the  roar  and  the  groan  round  the  Nor- 
man's way ;  and  with  the  half-naked  breast  against  the 
shirt  of  mail,  and  the  short  Roman  sword  against  the 

I. —  30 


350  HAROLD. 

long  Norman  falchion,  the  Lion  King  of  Wales  fronted 
the  knight. 

Unequal  as  seems  the  encounter,  so  quick  was  the 
spring  of  the  Briton,  so  pliant  his  arm,  and  so  rapid  his 
weapon,  that  that  good  knight  (who  rather  from  skill 
and  valor  than  brute  physical  strength,  ranked  amongst 
the  prowest  of  William's  band  of  martial  brothers)  would 
willingly  have  preferred  to  see  before  him  Fitzosborne  or 
Montgommeri,  all  clad  in  steel  and  armed  with  mace  and 
lance,  than  parried  those  dazzling  strokes,  and  fronted 
the  angry  majesty  of  that  helmless  brow.  Already  the 
strong  rings  of  his  mail  had  been  twice  pierced,  and  his 
blood  trickled  fast,  while  his  great  sword  had  but  smitten 
the  air  in  its  sweeps  at  the  foe ;  when  the  Saxon  pha- 
lanx, taking  advantage  of  the  breach  in  the  ring  that 
girt  them,  caused  by  this  diversion,  and  recognizing  with 
fierce  ire  the  gold  torque  and  breast-plate  of  the  Welch 
king,  made  their  desperate  charge.  Then  for  some 
minutes  the  pele'mele  was  confused  and  indistinct — blows 
blind  and  at  random — death  coming  no  man  knew  whence 
or  how ;  till  discipline  and  steadfast  order,  (which  the 
Saxons  kept,  as  by  mechanism,  through  the  discord) 
obstinately  prevailed.  The  wedge  forced  its  way  ;  and, 
though  reduced  in  numbers  and  sore  wounded,  the  Saxon 
troop  cleared  the  ring,  and  joined  the  main  force  drawn 
up  by  the  fort,  and  guarded  in  the  rear  by  its  wall. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  supported  by  the  band  under  Sex- 
wolf,  had  succeeded  at  length  in  repelling  farther  rein- 
forcements of  the  Welch  at  the  more  accessible  part  of 


HAROLD.  351 

the  trenches;  and  casting  now  his  practised  eye  over  the 
field,  he  issued  orders  for  some  of  the  men  to  regain  the 
fort,  and  open  from  the  battlements,  and  from  every  loop- 
hole, the  batteries  of  stone  and  javelin,  which  then  (with 
the  Saxons,  unskilled  in  sieges)  formed  the  main  artillery 
of  forts.  These  orders  given,  he  planted  Sexwolf  and 
most  of  his  band  to  keep  watch  round  the  trenches  ;  and 
shading  his  eye  with  his  hand,  and  looking  towards  the 
moon,  all  waning  and  dimmed  in  the  watch-fires,  he  said 
calmly,  "  Now  patience  fights  for  ns.  Ere  the  moon 
reaches  yon  hill-top,  the  troops  at  Aber  and  Caer-hen 
will  be  on  the  slopes  of  Penmaen,  and  cut  off  the  retreat 
of  the  Walloons.  Advance  my  flag  to  the  thick  of  yon 
strife." 

But  as  the  earl,  with  his  axe  swung  over  his  shoulder, 
and  followed  but  by  some  half-score  or  more  with  his 
banner,  strode  on  where  the  wild  war  was  now  mainly 
concentered,  just  midway  between  trench  and  fort,  Gryf- 
fyth  caught  sight  both  of  the  banner  and  the  earl,  and 
left  the  press  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  gained 
the  greatest  advantage  ;  and  when  indeed,  but  for  the 
Norman,  who,  wounded  as  he  was,  and  unused  to  fight 
on  foot,  stood  resolute  in  the  van,  the  Saxons,  wearied 
out  by  numbers,  and  falling  fast  beneath  the  javelins, 
would  have  fled  into  their  walls,  and  so  sealed  their  fate, 
— for  the  Welch  would  have  entered  at  their  heels. 

But  it  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Welch  heroes  never 
to  learn  that  war  is  a  science  ;  and  instead  of  now  cerf- 
tering  all  force  on  the  point  most  weakened,  the  whole 


352  HAROLD. 

field  vanished  from  the  fierce  eye  of  the  Welch  king,  when 
he  saw  the  banner  and  form  of  Harold. 

The  earl  beheld  the  coming  foe,  wheeling  round,  as  the 
hawk  on  the  heron ;  halted,  drew  up  his  few  men  in  a 
semi-circle,  with  their  large  shields  as  a  rampart,  and 
their  levelled  spears  as  a  palisade  ;  and  before  them  all, 
as  a  tower,  stood  Harold  with  his  axe.  In  a  minute 
more  he  was  surrounded  ;  and  through  the  rain  of  javelins 
that  poured  upon  him,  hissed  and  glittered  the  sword  of 
Gryffyth.  But  Harold,  more  practised  than  the  Sire  de 
Graville  in  the  sword-play  of  the  Welch,  and  unencum- 
bered by  other  defensive  armor  (save  only  the  helm,  wiiich 
was  shaped  like  the  Norman's),  than  his  light  coat  of 
hide,  opposed  quickness  to  quickness,  and  suddenly  drop- 
ping his  axe,  sprang  upon  his  foe,  and  clasping  him  round 
with  the  left  arm,  with  the  right  hand  griped  at  his 
throat, — 

"  Yield,  and  quarter  !  —  yield,  for  thy  life,  son  of  Llew- 
ellyn 1 '» 

Strong  was  that  embrace,  and  death-like  that  gripe  ; 
yet,  as  the  snake  from  the  hand  of  the  dervise — as  a  ghost 
from  the  grasp  of  the  dreamer,  the  lithe  Cymrian  glided 
away,  and  the  broken  torque  was  all  that  remained  in  the 
clutch  of  Harold. 

At  this  moment  a  mighty  yell  of  despair  broke  from 
the  Welch  near  the  fort:  stones  and  javelins  rained  upon 
them  from  the  walls,  and  the  fierce  Norman  was  in  the 
midst,  with  his  sword  drinking  blood  ;  but  not  for  javelin, 
stone,  and  sword,  shrank  and  shouted  the  Welchmen.    On 


HAROLD.  S53 

the  other  side  of  the  trenches  were  marching  against  them 
their  own  countrymen,  the  rival  tribes  that  helped  the 
stranger  to  rend  the  land  ;  and  far  to  the  right  were  seen 
the  spears  of  the  Saxon  from  Aber,  and  to^the  left  was 
heard  the  shout  of  the  forces  under  Godrith  from  Caer- 
hen ;  and  they  who  had  sought  the  leopard  in  his  lair 
were  now  themselves  the  prey  caught  in  the  toils.  With 
new  heart,  as  they  beheld  these  reinforcements,  the  Saxons 
pressed  on  ;  tumult,  and  flight,  and  indiscriminate  slaugh- 
ter, wrapped  the  field.  The  Welch  rushed  to  the  stream 
and  the  trenches  ;  and  in  the  bustle  and  hurlabaloo,  Gryf- 
fyth  was  swept  along,  as  a  bull  by  a  torrent ;  still  facing 
the  foe,  now  chiding,  now  smiting  his  own  men,  now  rush- 
ing alone  on  the  pursuers,  and  halting  their  onslaught, 
he  gained,  still  unwouuded,  the  stream,  paused  a  moment, 
laughed  loud,  and  sprang  into  the  wave.  A  hundred 
javelins  hissed  into  the  sullen  and  bloody  waters. 
"  Hold  !  "  cried  Harold  the  earl,  lifting  his  hand  on  high, 
"No  dastard  dart  at  the  brave  ! " 


CHAPTER   lY. 

The  fugitive  Britons,  scarce  one-tenth  of  the  number 

that  had  first  rushed  to  the  attack, — performed  their  flight 

with  the  same  Parthian  rapidity  that  characterized  the 

assault ;  and  escaping  both  Welch  foe  and  Saxon,  though 

30*  X 


351  HAROLD. 

the  former  broke  ground  to  pursue  them,  they  regained 
the  steeps  of  Penmaen. 

There  was  no  further  thought  of  slumber  that  night 
within  the  Walls,  While  the  wounded  were  tended,  and 
the  dead  were  cleared  from  the  soil,  Harold,  with  three 
of  his  chiefs,  and  Mallet  de  Graville,  whose  feats  rendered 
it  more  than  ungracious  to  refuse  his  request  that  he 
might  assist  in  the  council,  conferred  upon  the  means  of 
terminating  the  war  with  the  next  day.  Two  of  the 
thegns,  their  blood  hot  with  strife  and  revenge,  proposed 
to  scale  the  mountain  with  the  whole  force  the  reinforce- 
ments had  brought  them,  and  put  all  they  found  to  the 
sword. 

The  third,  old  and  prudent,  and  inured  to  Welch  war- 
fare, thought  otherwise. 

"  None  of  us,"  said  he,  "  know  what  is  the  true  strength 
of  the  place  which  ye  propose  to  storm.  Not  even  one 
Welchman  have  we  found  who  hath  ever  himself  gained 
the  summit,  or  examined  the  castle  which  is  said  to  exist 
there."* 

"  Said  ! "  echoed  de  Graville,  who,  relieved  of  his  mail, 
and  with  his  wounds  bandaged,  reclined  on  his  furs  on 
the  floor.  "  Said,  noble  sir  I  Cannot  our  eyes  perceive 
the  towers  I " 

The  old  thegn  shook  his  head.  "At  a  distance,  and 
through  mists,  stones  loom  large,  and  crags  themselves 

*  Certain  high  places  in  Wales,  of  which  this  might  well  be  one, 
were  held  so  sacred,  that  even  the  dwellers  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood never  presumed  to  approach  them. 


HAROLD.  355 

take  strange  shapes.  It  may  be  castle,  may  be  rock,  may 
be  old  roofless  temples  of  heathenesse  that  we  see.  Bat 
to  repeat  (and,  as  I  am  slow,  I  pray  not  again  to  be  put 
out  in  my  speech)  —  none  of  us  know  what,  there,  exists 
of  defence,  man-made  or  Nature-built.  Not  even  thy 
Welch  spies,  son  of  Godwin,  have  gained  to  the  heights. 
In  the  midst  lie  the  scouts  of  the  Welch  king,  and  tho^e 
on  the  top  can  see  the  bird  fly,  the  goat  climb.  Few  of 
thy  spies,  indeed,  have  ever  returned  with  life ;  their 
heads  have  been  left  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  with  the  scroll 
in  their  lips, — '  Die  ad  inferos — quid  in  superis  nomati.^ 
Tell  to  the  shades  below  what  thou  hast  seen  in  the 
heights  above." 

"And  the  Walloons  know  Latin  ! "  muttered  the  knight ; 
"I  respect  them  !  " 

The  slow  thegn  frowned,  stammered,  and  renewed  — 
"  One  thing  at  least  is  clear;  that  the  rock  is  well-nigh 
insurmountable  to  those  who  know  not  the  passes ;  that 
strict  watch,  baffling  even  Welch  spies,  is  kept  night  and 
day ;  that  the  men  on  the  summit  are  desperate  and 
fierce  ;  that  our  own  troops  are  awed  and  terrified  by 
the  belief  of  the  Welch,  that  the  spot  is  haunted  and 
the  towers  fiend-founded.  One  single  defeat  may  lose  us 
two  years  of  victory.  Gryffyth  may  break  from  the  eyrie, 
regain  what  he  hath  lost,  win  back  our  Welch  allies,  ever 
faithless  and  hollow.  Wherefore,  I  say,  go  on  as  we  have 
begun.  Beset  all  the  country  round  ;  cut  off  all  supplies, 
and  let  the  foe  rot  by  famine — or  waste,  as  he  hath  done 
this  night,  his  strength  by  vain  onslaught  and  sally." 


356  HAROLD. 

"Thy  counsel  is  good,"  said  Harold,  "but there  is  yet 
something  to  add  to  it,  which  may  shorten  the  strife,  and 
gain  the  end  with  less  sacrifice  of  life.  The  defeat  of 
to-night  will  have  humbled  the  spirits  of  the  Welch  ;  take 
them  yet  in  the  hour  of  despair  and  disaster.  I  wish, 
therefore,  to  send  to  their  outposts  a  nuncius,  with  these 
terms  —  'Life  and  pardon  to  all  who  lay  down  arms  and 
surrender.'  " 

"What,  after  such  havoc  and  gore  ?''  cried  one  of  the 
thegns. 

"  They  defend  their  own  soil,"  replied  the  earl  simply  : 
"had  not  we  done  the  same?" 

"  But  the  rebel  Gryffyth  ?  "  asked  the  old  thegn,  "  thou 
canst  not  accept  him  again  as  crowned  sub-king  of  Ed- 
ward ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  earl,  "I  propose  to  exempt  Gryfifyth 
alone  from  the  pardon,  with  promise,  natheless,  of  life, 
if  he  give  himself  up  as  prisoner,  and  count,  without 
further  condition,  on  the  king's  mercy."  There  was  a 
prolonged  silence.  None  spoke  against  the  earl's  pro- 
posal, though  the  two  younger  thegns  misliked  it  much. 

At  last  said  the  elder,  "  But  hast  thou  thought  who 
will  carry  this  message  ?  Fierce  and  wild  are  yon  blood- 
dogs  ;  and  man  must  needs  shrive  soul  and  make  will,  if 
he  go  to  their  kennel." 

"  I  feel  sure  that  my  bode  will  be  safe,"  answered 
Harold  ;  "  for  GryfTyth  has  all  the  pride  of  a  king,  and, 
sparing  neither  man  nor  child  in  the  onslaught,  will  re- 


HAROLD.  357 

spect  what  the  Roman  taught  his  sires  to  respect — envoy 
from  chief  to  chief — as  a  head  scatheless  and  sacred." 

"  Choose  whom  thou  wilt,  Harold,"  said  one  of  the 
young  thegns,  laughing,  "but  spare  thy  friends;  and 
whomsoever  thou  choosest,  pay  his  widow  the  weregeld." 

"Fair  sirs,"  then  said  De  Graville,  "if  ye  think  that 
I,  though  a  stranger,  could  serve  you  as  nuncius,  it  w^ould 
be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  undertake  this  mission.  First, 
because,  being  curious  as  concerns  forts  and  castles,  I 
would  fain  see  if  mine  eyes  have  deceived  me  in  taking 
yon  towers  for  a  hold  of  great  might.  Secondly,  because 
that  same  wild-cat  of  a  king  must  have  a  court  rare  to 
visit.  And  the  only  reflection  that  withholds  my  pressing 
the  ofl'er  as  a  personal  suit  is,  that  though  I  have  some 
words  of  the  Breton  jargon  at  my  tongue's  need,  I  can- 
not pretend  to  be  a  Tully  in  "Welch  ;  howbeit,  since  it 
seems  that  one,  at  least,  among  them  knows  something 
of  Latin,  I  doubt  not  but  w^hat  I  shall  get  out  my  mean- 
ing I  " 

"Nay,  as  to  that,  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  Harold,  who 
seemed  well  pleased  with  the  knight's  offer,  "  there  shall 
be  no  hindrance  or  let,  as  I  will  make  clear  to  you;  and 
in  spite  of  what  you  have  just  heard,  Gryffyth  shall  harm 
you  not  in  limb  or  in  life.  But,  kindly  and  courteous  sir, 
will  your  wounds  permit  the  journey,  not  long,  but  steep 
and  laborious,  and  only  to  be  made  on  foot  ? " 

"  On  foot !  "  said  the  knight,  a  little  staggered,  "  Par- 
dex!  well  and  truly,  I  did  not  count  upon  that!" 


358  HAROLD. 

"Enough,"  said  Harold,  turning  away  in  evident  dis- 
appointment, "think  of  it  no  more." 

"  Nay,  by  your  leave,  what  I  have  once  said  I  stand 
to,"  returned  the  knight ;  "  albeit,  you  may  as  well  cleave 
in  two  one  of  those  respectable  centaurs  of  which  we 
have  read  in  our  youth,  as  part  Norman  and  horse.  I 
will  forthwith  go  to  my  chamber,  and  apparel  myself  be- 
comingly—  not  forgetting,  in  case  of  the  worst,  to  wear 
my  mail  under  my  robe.  Vouchsafe  me  but  an  armorer, 
just  to  rivet  up  the  rings  through  which  scratched  so 
felinely  the  paw  of  that  well-appelled  Griffin.''^ 

"  I  accept  your  offer  frankly,"  said  Harold,  "  and  all 
shall  be  prepared  for  you,  as  soon  as  you  yourself  will 
re-seek  me  here." 

The  knight  rose,  and  though  somewhat  stiff  and  smart- 
ing with  his  wounds,  left  the  room  lightly,  summoned  his 
armorer  and  squire,  and  having  dressed  with  all  the  care 
and  pomp  habitual  to  a  Norman,  his  gold  chain  round 
his  neck,  and  his  vest  stiff  with  broidery,  he  re-entered 
the  apartment  of  Harold.  The  earl  received  him  alone, 
and  came  up  to  him  with  a  cordial  face.  "  I  thank  thee 
more,  brave  Norman,  than  I  ventured  to  say  before  my 
thegns,  for  I  tell  thee  frankly,  that  my  intent  and  aim  are 
to  save  the  life  of  this  brave  king ;  and  thou  canst  well 
understand  that  every  Saxon  amongst  us  must  have  his 
blood  warmed  by  contest,  and  his  eyes  blind  with  national 
hate.  You  alone,  as  a  stranger,  see  the  valiant  warrior 
and  hunted  prince,  and  as  such  you  can  feel  for  him  the 
noble  pity  of  manly  foes." 


UAROLD.  359 

"That  is  true,"  said  De  Graville,  a  little  surprised, 
"though  we  Normans  are  at  least  as  fierce  as  you  Saxons, 
when  we  have  once  tasted  blood ;  and  I  own  nothing 
would  please  me  better  than  to  dress  that  catamaran  in 
mail,  put  a  spear  in  its  claws,  and  a  horse  under  its  legs, 
and  thus  fight  out  my  disgrace  at  being  so  clawed  and 
mauled  by  its  griffes.  And  though  I  respect  a  brave 
knight  in  distress,  I  can  scarce  extend  my  compassion  to 
a  thing  that  fights  against  all  rule,  martial  and  kingly." 

The  earl  smiled  gravely.  "  It  is  the  mode  in  which 
his  ancestors  rushed  on  the  spears  of  Caesar.  Pardon 
him.'' 

"I  pardon  him,  at  your  gracious  request,"  quoth  the 
knight,  with  a  grand  air,  and  waving  his  hands  ;  "  say 
on." 

"  You  will  proceed  with  a  Welch  monk — whom,  though 
not  of  the  faction  of  Gryffyth,  all  Welchmen  respect — to 
the  mouth  of  a  frightful  pass,  skirting  the  river ;  the 
monk  will  bear  aloft  the  holy  rood  in  signal  of  peace. 
Arrived  at  that  pass,  you  will  doubtless  be  stopped.  The 
monk  here  will  be  spokesman  ;  and  ask  safe-conduct  to 
Gryffyth  to  deliver  my  message  ;  he  will  also  bear  cer- 
tain tokens,  which  will  no  doubt  win  the  way  for  you. 

"Arrived  before  Gryflfyth,  the  monk  will  accost  him  ; 
mark  and  heed  well  his  gestures,  since  thou  wilt  know 
not  the  Weclh  tongue  he  employs.  And  when  he  raises 
the  rood,  thou,  —  in  the  meanwhile,  having  artfully  ap- 
proached close  to  Gryffyth, — wilt  whisper  in  Saxon,  which 
he  well  understands,  and  pressing  the  ring  I  now  give 


360  HAROLD. 

thee  into  his  hand,  '  Obey  by  this  pledge  ;  thou  knowest 
Harold  is  true,  and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people.' 
If  he  asks  more,  thou  knowest  nought. " 

"So  far,  this  is  as  should  be  from  chief  to  chief,"  said 
the  Norman,  touched,  "and  thus  had  Fitzosborne  done 
to  his  foe.  I  thank  thee  for  this  mission,  and  the  more 
that  thou  hast  not  asked  me  to  note  the  strength  of  the 
bulwark,  and  number  the  men  that  may  keep  it." 

Again  Harold  smiled.  "Praise  me  not  for  this,  noble 
Norman  —  we  plain  Saxons  have  not  your  refinements. 
If  ye  are  led  to  the  summit,  which  I  think  ye  will  not  be, 
the  monk  at  least  will  have  eyes  to  see,  and  tongue  to 
relate.  But  to  thee  I  confide  this  much;  —  I  know, 
already,  that  Gryffth's  strong-holds  are  not  his  walls  and 
his  towers,  but  the  superstition  of  our  men,  and  the 
despair  of  his  own.  I  could  win  those  heights,  as  I  have 
won  heights  as  cloud-capt,  but  with  fearful  loss  of  my 
own  troops,  and  the  massacre  of  every  foe.  Both  I  would 
spare,  if  I  may." 

"  Yet  thou  hast  not  shown  such  value  for  life,  in  the 
solitudes  I  passed,"  said  the  knight,  bluntly. 

Harold  turned  pale,  but  said  firmly,  "  Sire  de  Graville, 
a  stern  thing  is  duty,  and  resistless  is  its  voice.  These 
Welchmen,  unless  curbed  to  their  mountains,  eat  into 
the  strength  of  England,  as  the  tide  gnaws  into  a  shore. 
Merciless  were  they  in  their  ravages  on  our  borders,  and 
ghastly  and  torturing  their  fell  revenge.  But  it  is  one 
thing  to  grapple  with  a  foe  fierce  and  strong,  and  another 
to  smite  when  his  power  is  gone,  fang  and  talon.  And 
when  I  see  before  mc  the  fated  king  of  a  great  race,  and 


HAROLD.  361 

the  last  band  of  doomed  heroes,  too  few  and  too  feeble 
to  make  head  ageinst  mj  arms — when  the  land  is  already 
my  own,  and  the  sword  is  that  of  the  deathsman,  not  of 
the  warrior  —  verily,  Sir  Norman,  duty  releases  its  iron 
tool,  and  man  becomes  man  again." 

"  I  go,"  said  the  Norman,  inclining  his  head  low  as  to 
his  own  great  duke,  and  turning  to  the  door ;  yet  there 
he  paused,  and  looking  at  the  ring  which  he  had  placed 
ou  his  finger,  he  said,  "  But  one  word  more,  if  not  indis- 
creet—  your  answer  may  help  argument,  if  argument  be 
needed.     What  tale  lies  hid  in  this  token?" 

Harold  colored  and  paused  a  moment,  then  answered  : 

"  Simply  this.  Gryffyth's  wife,  the  lady  Aldyth,  a 
Saxon  by  birth,  fell  into  my  hands.  We  were  storming 
Rhadlan,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  isle  ;  she  was  there. 
We  war  not  against  women  ;  I  feared  the  license  of  my 
own  soldiers,  and  I  sent  the  lady  to  Gryffyth.  Aldyth 
gave  me  this  ring  on  parting  ;  and  I  bade  her  tell  Gryflfyth 
that  whenever,  at  the  hour  of  his  last  peril  and  sorest 
need,  I  sent  that  ring  back  to  him,  he  might  hold  it  the 
pledge  of  his  life." 

"Is  this  lady,  think  you,  in  the  strong-hold  with  her 
Iord?'» 

"I  am  not  sure,  but  I  fear  yes,"  answered  Harold. 

"Yet  one  word.  And  if  Gryffyth  refuse,  despite  all 
warning  ?" 

Harold's  eyes  drooped. 

"  If  so,  he  dies ;  but  not  by  the  Saxon  sword.  God 
and  our  Lady  speed  you ! " 

I.— 31 


3G2  HAROLD 


CHAPTER   Y. 

On  the  height  called  Pen-y-Dinas  (or  "  Head  of  the 
City"),  forming  one  of  the  summits  of  Penmaen-mawr, 
and  in  the  heart  of  that  supposed  fortress  which  no  eye 
in  the  Saxon  camp  had  surveyed,  reclined  Gryfifyth,  the 
hunted  king.  Nor  is  it  marvellous  that  at  that  day  there 
should  be  disputes  as  to  the  nature  and  strength  of  the 
supposed  bulwark,  since,  in  times  the  most  recent,  and 
among  antiquaries  the  most  learned,  the  greatest  dis- 
crepancies exist,  not  only  as  to  theoretical  opinion,  but 
plain  matter  of  observation,  and  simple  measurement. 
The  place,  however,  I  need  scarcely  say,  was  not  as  we 
see  it  now,  with  its  foundations  of  gigantic  ruin,  afford- 
ing ample  space  for  conjecture  ;  yet,  even  then  a  wreck 
as  of  Titans,  its  date  and  purpose  were  lost  in  remote 
antiquity. 

The  central  area  (in  which  the  Welch  king  now  re- 
clined) formed  an  oval  barrow  of  loose  stones  :  whether 
so  left  from  the  origin,  or  the  relics  of  some  vanished 
building,  was  unknown  even  to  bard  or  diviner.  Round 
this  space  were  four  strong  circumvallations  of  loose 
stones,  with  a  space  about  eighty  yards  between  each ; 
the  walls  themselves  generally  about  eight  feet  wide,  but 
of  various  height,  as  the  stones  had  fallen  by  time  and 


HAROLD.  363 

blast.  Along  these  walls  rose  numerous  nnd  almost 
countless  circular  buildings,  which  might  pass  for  towers, 
though  only  a  few  had  been  recently  and  rudely  roofed 
in.  To  the  whole  of  this  quadruple  enclosure  there  was 
but  one  narrow  entrance,  now  left  open  as  if  in  scorn  of 
assault;  and  a  winding  narrow  pass  down  the  mountain, 
with  innumerable  curves,  alone  led  to  the  single  threshold. 
Far  down  the  hill,  walls  again  were  visible  ;  and  the 
whole  surface  of  the  steep  soil,  more  than  half-way  in 
the  descent,  was  heaped  with  vast  loose  stones,  as  if  the 
bones  of  a  dead  city.  But  beyond  the  innermost  en- 
closure of  the  fort  (if  fort,  or  sacred  enclosure,  be  the 
correcter  name),  rose  thick  and  frequent,  other  mementos 
of  the  Briton  ;  many  cromlechs,  already  shattered  and 
shapeless  ;  the  ruins  of  stone  houses  ;  and  high  over  all, 
those  upraised,  mighty  amber  piles,  as  at  Stonehenge, 
once  reared,  if  our  dim  learning  be  true,  in  honor  to 
Bel,  or  Bal-Huan,  the  idol  of  the  sun.  All,  in  short, 
showed  that  the  name  of  the  place,  "the  Head  of  the 
City,"  told  its  tale ;  all  announced  that,  there,  once  the 
Celt  had  his  home,  and  the  gods  of  the  Druid  their  wor- 
ship. And  musing  amidst  these  skeletons  of  the  past, 
lay  the  doomed  son  of  Pen  Dragon. 

Beside  him  a  kind  of  throne  had  been  raised  with 
stones,  and  over  it  was  spread  a  tattered  and  faded  velvet 
pall.  On  this  throne  sat  Aldyth  the  queen  ;  and  about 
the  royal  pair  was  still  that  mockery  of  a  court  which 
the  jealous  pride  of  the  Celt  king  retained  amidst  all  tho 
horrors  of  carnage  and  famine.     Most  of  the  oflBcers, 


364  HAROLD. 

indeed  (originally  in  number  twenty-four),  whose  duties 
attached  them  to  the  king  and  queen  of  the  Cymry,  were 
already  feeding  the  crow  or  the  worm.  But  still,  with 
gaunt  hawk  on  his  wrist,  the  penhebogydd  (grand  fal- 
coner) stood  at  a  distance ;  still,  with  beard  sweeping 
his  breast,  and  rod  in  hand,  leaned  against  a  projecting 
shatt  of  the  wall,  the  noiseless  gosdegwr,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  command  silence  in  the  king's  hall ;  and  still  the 
penbard  bent  over  his  bruised  harp,  which  once  had 
thrilled,  through  the  fair  vaults  of  Caerleon  and  Rhadlan, 
in  high  praise  of  God,  and  the  king,  and  the  Hero  Dead. 
In  the  pomp  of  gold  dish  and  vessel*  the  board  was 
spread  on  the  stones  for  the  king  and  queen ;  and  on  the 
dish  was  the  last  fragment  of  black  bread,  and  in  the 
vessel,  full  and  clear,  the  water  from  the  spring  that 
bubbled  up  everlastingly  through  the  bones  of  the  dead 
city. 

Beyond  this  innermost  space,  round  a  basin  of  rock, 

*  The  Welch  seem  to  have  had  a  profusion  of  the  precious 
metals,  very  disproportioned  to  the  scarcity  of  their  coined  money. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  torques,  bracelets,  and  even  breast-plates 
of  gold,  common  with  their  nuraereus  chiefs,  their  laws  affix  to 
offences  penalties  which  attest  the  prevalent  waste  both  of  gold 
and  silver.  Thus,  an  insult  to  a  sub-king  of  Aberfraw,  is  atoned 
by  a  silver  rod  as  thick  as  the  king's  little  finger,  which  is  in  length 
to  reach  from  the  ground  to  his  mouth  when  sitting;  and  a  gold 
cup,  with  a  cover  as  broad  as  the  king's  face,  and  the  thickness  of 
a  ploughman's  nail,  or  the  shell  of  a  goose's  egg.  I  sus^pect  that 
it  was  precisely  because  the  Welch  coined  little  or  no  money,  that 
the  metals  they  possessed  became  thus  common  in  domestic  use. 
Gold  would  have  been  more  rarely  seen,  even  amongst  the  Peru- 
vians, had  they  coined  it  into  money. 


HAROLD.  365 

through  which  the  stream  overflowed  as  from  an  artificial 
conduit,  lay  the  wounded  and  exhausted,  crawling,  turn 
by  turn,  to  the  lips  of  the  basin,  and  happy  that  the 
thirst  of  fever  saved  them  from  the  gnawing  desire  of 
food.  A  wan  and  spectral  figure  glided  listlessly  to  and 
fro  amidst  those  mangled,  and  parched,  and  dying  groups. 
This  personage,  in  happier  times,  filled  the  office  of  phy- 
sician to  the  court,  and  was  placed  twelfth  in  rank  amidst 
the  chiefs  of  the  household.  And  for  cure  of  the  "  three 
deadly  wounds,"  the  cloven  skull,  or  the  gaping  viscera, 
or  the  broken  limb  (all  three  classed  alike),  large  should 
have  been  his  fee.*  But  fee-less  went  he  now  from  man 
to  man,  with  his  red  ointment  and  his  muttered  charm  ; 
und  those  over  whom  he  shook  his  lean  face  and  matted 
locks,  smiled  ghastly  at  that  sign  that  release  and  death 
were  near.  Within  the  enclosures,  either  lay  supine,  or 
stalked  restless,  the  withered  remains  of  the  wild  army. 
A  sheep,  and  a  horse,  and  a  dog,  were  yet  left  them  all 
to  share  for  the  day's  meal.  And  the  fire  of  flickering 
and  crackling  brushwood  burned  bright  from  a  hollow 
amidst  the  loose  stones  ;  but  the  animals  were  yet  unslain, 
and  the  dog  crept  by  the  fire,  winking  at  it  with  dim 
eyes. 

But  over  the  lower  part  of  the  wall  nearest  to  the 
barrow,  leant  three  men.  The  wall  there  was  so  broken, 
that  they  could  gaze  over  it  on  that  grotesque  yet  dismal 
court ;  and  the  eyes  of  the  three  men,  with  a  fierce  and 
wolfish  glare,  were  bent  on  Gryfiyth. 

*  Leges  Wallicje. 
31* 


36G  HAROLD. 

Three  princes  were  they  of  the  great  old  line  ;  far  as 
Gryffyth  they  traced  the  fabulous  honors  of  their  race, 
to  Hu-Gadarn  and  Prydain,  and  each  thought  it  shame 
that  Gryffyth  should  be  lord  over  him  I  Each  had  had 
throne  and  court  of  his  own  ;  each  his  "  white  palace  " 
of  peeled  willow  wands  —  poor  substitutes,  0  kings,  for 
the  palaces  and  towers  that  the  arts  of  Rome  had  be- 
queathed your  fathers !  And  each  had  been  subjugated 
by  the  son  of  Llewyllyn,  when,  in  his  day  of  might,  he 
reunited  under  his  sole  sway  all  the  multiform  principali- 
ties of  Wales,  and  regained,  for  a  moment's  splendor, 
the  throne  of  Roderic  the  Great. 

"Is  it,"  said  Owain,  in  a  hollow  whisper,  "for  yon 
man,  whom  Heaven  hath  deserted,  who  could  not  keep 
his  very  torque  from  the  gripe  of  the  Saxon,  that  we  are 
to  die  on  these  hills,  gnawing  the  flesh  from  our  bones  ? 
Think  ye  not  the  hour  is  come?" 

"  The  hour  will  come,  when  the  sheep,  and  the  horse, 
and  the  dog  are  devoured,"  replied  Modred,  "  and  when 
the  whole  force,  as  one  man,  will  cry  to  Gryffyth,  '  Thou 
a  king  I  —  give  us  bread!'" 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  third,  an  old  man,  leaning  on  a 
wand  of  solid  silver,  while  the  mountain  wind,  sweeping 
between  the  walls,  played  with  the  rags  of  his  robe,  — 
"it  is  well  that  the  night's  sally,  less  of  war  than  of 
hunger,  was  foiled  even  of  forage  and  food.  Had  the 
saints  been  with  Gryffyth,  who  had  dared  to  keep  faith 
with  Tostig  the  Saxon  ?  " 

Owain  laughed,  a  laugh  hollow  and  false. 


HAROLD.  36t 

"Art  thou  Cymrian,  and  talkest  of  faith  with  a  Saxon  ? 
Faith  with  the  spoiler,  the  ravisher,  and  butcher  ?  But 
a  Cymrian  keeps  faith  with  revenge  ;  and  Gryfifyth's  trunk 
should  be  still  crownless  and  headless,  though  Tostig  had 
never  proffered  the  barter  of  safety  and  food.  Hist ! 
Gryflfyth  wakes  from  the  black  dream,  and  his  eyes  glow 
from  under  his  hair." 

And  indeed  at  this  moment  the  king  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow,  and  looked  round  with  a  haggard  and  fierce 
despair  in  his  glittering  eyes. 

*'  Play  to  us,  harper  ;  sing  some  song  of  the  deeds  of 
old  !  " 

The  bard  mournfully  strove  to  sweep  the  harp,  but  the 
chords  were  broken,  and  the  note  came  discordant  and 
shrill  as  the  sigh  of  a  wailing  fiend. 

"  0  king ! "  said  the  bard,  "  the  music  hath  left  the 
harp." 

"Ha!"  murmured  Gryfifyth,  "and  hope  the  earth! 
Bard,  answer  the  son  of  Llewyllyn.  Oft  in  my  halls  hast 
thou  sung  the  praise  of  the  men  that  have  been.  In  the 
halls  of  the  race  to  come,  will  bards  yet  unborn  sweep 
their  harps  to  the  deeds  of  thy  king  ?  Shall  they  tell  of 
the  day  of  Torques,  by  Llyn-Afange,  when  the  princes 
of  Powys  fled  from  his  sword  as  the  clouds  from  the  blast 
of  the  wind  ?  Shall  they  sing,  as  the  Hirlas  goes  round, 
of  his  steeds  of  the  sea,  when  no  flag  came  in  sight  of 
his  prowls  between  the  dark  isle  of  the  Druid  *  and  the 


*  Mona,  or  Anglesea. 


3G8  HAROLD. 

green  pastures  of  Huerdan  ?  *  Or  the  towns  that  he 
fired,  on  the  lands  of  the  Saxon,  when  Rolf  and  the 
Northmen  ran  fast  from  his  javelin  and  spear  ?  Or  say, 
Cliild  of  Truth,  if  all  that  is  told  of  Gryffyth  thy  king 
shall  be  his  woe  and  his  shame  ? " 

The  bard  swept  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  answered, — ■ 

"  Bards  unborn  shall  sing  of  Gryffyth  the  son  of 
Llewyllyn.  But  the  song  shall  not  dwell  on  the  pomp 
of  his  power,  when  twenty  sub-kings  knelt  at  his  throne, 
and  his  beacon  was  lighted  in  the  holds  of  the  Norman 
and  Saxon.  Bards  shall  sing  of  the  hero,  who  fought 
every  inch  of  crag  and  morass  in  the  front  of  his  men, — 
and  on  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr,  Fame  recovers  thy 
crown  !  " 

"  Then  I  have  lived  as  my  fathers  in  life,  and  shall  live 
with  their  glory  in  death  ! "  said  Gryflfyth  ;  "  and  so  the 
shadow  hath  passed  from  my  soul."  Then  turning  round, 
still  propped  upon  his  elbow,  he  fixed  his  proud  eye  upon 
Aldyth,  and  said,  gravely,  "  Wife,  pale  is  thy  face,  and 
gloomy  thy  brow  :  mournest  thou  the  throne  or  the 
man  ?  " 

Aldyth  cast  on  her  wild  lord  a  look  of  more  terror 
than  compassion,  a  look  without  the  grief  that  is  gentle, 
or  the  love  that  reveres ;   and  answered, — 

"  What  matter  to  thee  ray  thoughts  or  my  suflferings  ? 
The  sword  or  the  famine  is  the  doom  thou  hast  chosen. 
Listening  to  vain  dreams  from  thy  bard,  or  thine  own 

*  Ireland. 


HAROLD,  369 

pride  as  idle,  thou  disdainest  life  for  us  both  :  be  it  so  j 
let  us  die!" 

A  strange  blending  of  fondness  and  wrath  troubled 
the  pride  on  Gryffyth's  features,  uncouth  and  half-savage 
as  they  were,  but  still  noble  and  kingly. 

"  And  what  terror  has  death,  if  thou  lovest  me  ? " 
said  he. 

Aldyth  shivered  and  turned  aside.  The  unhappy  king 
gazed  hard  on  that  face,  which,  despite  sore  trial  and 
recent  exposure  to  rough  wind  and  weather,  still  retained 
the  proverbial  beauty  of  the  Saxon  women  —  but  beauty 
without  the  glow  of  the  heart,  as  a  landscape  from  which 
sun-light  has  vanished  ;  and  as  he  gazed,  the  color  went 
and  came  fitfully  over  his  swarthy  cheeks,  whose  hue  con- 
trasted the  blue  of  his  eye,  and  the  red  tawny  gold  of  his 
shaggy  hair. 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  me,"  he  said  at  length,  "  send  to 
Harold  thy  countryman  ;  thou  wouldst  have  me,  me  — 
rightful  lord  of  all  Britain  —  beg  for  mercy,  and  sue  for 
life.  Ah,  traitress,  and  child  of  robber-sires,  fair  as 
Kowena  art  thou,  but  no  Yortimer  am  I !  Thou  turnest 
in  loathing  from  the  lord  whose  marriage-gift  was  a 
crown  ;  and  the  sleek  form  of  thy  Saxon  Harold  rises  up 
through  the  clouds  of  the  carnage." 

All  the  fierce  and  dangerous  jealousy  of  man's  most 
human  passion — when  man  loves  and  hates  in  a  breath — 
trembled  in  the  Cymrian's  voice,  and  fired  his  troubled 
eye  ;  for  Aldyth's  pale  cheek  blushed  like  the  rose,  but 

Y 


370  HAROLD. 

she  folded  her  arms  haughtily  on  her  breast,  and  made 
no  reply. 

"  No,"  said  Gryflfyth,  grinding  teeth,  white*  and  strong 
as  those  of  a  young  hound.  "  No,  Harold  in  vain  sent 
me  the  casket ;  the  jewel  was  gone.  In  vain  thy  form 
returned  to  my  side ;  thy  heart  was  away  with  thy  cap- 
tor :  and  not  to  save  my  life  (were  I  so  base  as  to  seek 
it),  but  to  see  once  more  the  face  of  him  to  whom  this 
cold  hand,  in  whose  veins  no  pulse  answers  my  own,  had 
been  given,  if  thy  House  had  consulted  its  daughter, 
wouldst  thou  have  me  crouch  like  a  lashed  dog  at  the 
feet  of  my  foe  ?  Oh  shame  !  shame  !  shame  !  Oh  worst 
perfidy  of  all  !  Oh  sharp  —  sharper  than  Saxon  sword 
or  serpent's  tooth,  is  —  is " 

Tears  gushed  to  those  fierce  eyes,  and  the  proud  king 
dared  not  trust  to  his  voice. 

Aldyth  rose  coldly.  "  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt — not  insult 
me.     I  have  said,  '  Let  us  die  ! '  " 

With  these  words,  and  vouchsafing  no  look  on  her 
lord,  she  moved  away  towards  the  largest  tower  or  cell, 
in  which  the  single  and  rude  chamber  it  contained  had 
been  set  apart  for  her. 

Gryffyth's  eye  followed  her,  softening  gradually  as  her 
form  receded,  till  lost  to  his  sight.  And  then  that  pecu- 
liar household  love,  which  in  uncultivated  breasts  often 
survives  trust  and  esteem,   rushed  back  on  his  rough 

*  The  Welch  were  then,  and  still  are,  remarkable  for  the  beauty 
of  their  teeth.  Giraldus  Cambrensis  observes,  as  something  very 
extraordinary,  that  ihei/  cleaned  them. 


HAROLD.  371 

heart,  and  weakened  it,  as  woman  only  can  weaken  the 
strong  to  whom  Death  is  a  thought  of  scorn. 

He  signed  to  his  bard,  who,  during  the  conference  be- 
tween wife  and  lord,  had  retired  to  a  distance,  and  said, 
with  a  writhing  attempt  to  smile  — 

"  Was  there  truth,  thinkest  thou,  in  the  legend,  that 
Guenever  was  false  to  King  Arthur?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  bard,  divining  his  lord's  thought, 
"for  Guenever  survived  not  the  king,  and  they  were 
buried  side  by  side  in  the  vale  of  Avallon." 

*'  Thou  art  wise  in  the  lore  of  the  heart,  and  love  hath 
been  thy  study  from  youth  to  grey  hairs.  Is  it  love,  is 
it  hate,  that  prefers  death  for  the  loved  one,  to  the 
thought  of  her  life  as  another's  ?  " 

A  look  of  the  tenderest  compassion  passed  over  the 
bard's  wan  face,  but  vanished  in  reverence,  as  he  bowed 
his  head  and  answered  — 

"0  king,  who  shall  say  what  note  the  wind  calls  from 
the  harp,  or  what  impulse  love  wakes  in  the  soul  —  now 
soft  and  now  stern  ?  But,"  he  added,  raising  his  form, 
and  with  a  dread  calm  on  his  brow,  "but  the  love  of  a 
king  brooks  no  thought  of  dishonor,  and  she  who  hath 
laid  her  head  on  his  breast  should  sleep  in  his  grave." 

"  Thou  wilt  outlive  me,"  said  Gryflfyth,  abruptly. 
"This  earn  be  my  tomb!" 

"And  if  so,"  said  the  bard,  "thou  shalt  sleep  not 
alone.  In  this  earn  what  thou  lovest  best  shall  be  buried 
by  thy  side  ;  the  bard  shall  raise  his  song  over  thy  grave, 
and  the  bosses  of  shields  shall  be  placed  at  intervals,  as 


372  HAROLD, 

rises  and  falls  the  sound  of  song.  Over  the  grave  of 
two  shall  a  new  mound  arise,  and  we  will  bid  the  mound 
speak  to  others  in  the  far  days  to  come.  But  distant  yet 
be  the  hour  when  the  mighty  shall  be  laid  low  I  and  the 
tongue  of  thy  bard  may  yet  chant  the  rush  of  the  lion 
from  the  toils  and  the  spears.     Hope  still ! " 

Gryfifyth,  for  answer,  leant  on  the  harper's  shoulder, 
and  pointed  silently  to  the  sea,  that  lay  lake-like  at  the 
distance,  dark  —  studded  with  the  Saxon  fleet.  Then 
turning,  his  hand  stretched  over  the  forms  that,  hollow- 
eyed  and  ghost-like,  flitted  between  the  walls,  or  lay 
dying,  but  mute,  around  the  water-spring.  His  hand 
then  dropped,  and  rested  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  sudden  commotion  at  the 
outer  entrance  of  the  wall ;  the  crowd  gathered  to  one 
spot,  and  there  was  a  loud  hum  of  voices.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments one  of  the  Welch  scouts  came  into  the  enclosure, 
and  the  chiefs  of  the  royal  tribes  followed  him  to  the 
earn  on  which  the  king  stood. 

"  Of  what  tellest  thou  ?  "  said  Gryfifyth,  resuming  on 
the  instant  all  the  royalty  of  his  bearing. 

"At  the  mouth  of  the  pass,"  said  the  scout,  kneeling, 
"  there  are  a  monk  bearing  the  holy  rood,  and  a  chief, 
unarmed.  And.  the  monk  is  Evan,  the  Cymrian,  of 
Gwentland ;  and  the  chief,  by  his  voice,  seemeth  not  to 
be  Saxon.  The  monk  bade  me  give  thee  these  tokens  " 
(and  the  scout  displayed  the  broken  torque  which  the 
king  had  left  in  the  grasp  of  Harold,  together  with  a  live 
falcon  belled  and  blinded),  "  and  bade  me  say  thus  to  the 


HAROLD.  373 

king — Harold  the  Earl  greets  Gryffyth,  son  of  Llewellyn, 
and  sends  him,  in  proof  of  good-will,  the  richest  prize 
he  hath  ever  won  from  a  foe ;  and  a  hawk,  from  Llan- 
dudno ;  — that  bird  which  chief  and  equal  give  to  equal 
and  chief.  And  he  prays  Gryflfyth,  son  of  Llewellyn,  for 
the  sake  of  his  realm  and  his  people,  to  grant  hearing 
to  his  nuncius." 

A  murmur  broke  from  the  chiefs  —  a  murmur  of  joy 
and  surprise  from  all,  save  the  three  conspirators,  who 
interchanged  anxious  and  fiery  glances.  Gryfifyth's  hand 
had  already  closed,  while  he  uttered  a  cry  that  seemed 
of  rapture,  on  the  collar  of  gold ;  for  the  loss  of  that 
collar  had  stung  him,  perhaps,  more  than  the  loss  of  the 
crown  of  all  Wales.  And  his  heart,  so  generous  and 
large,  amidst  all  its  rude  passions,  was  touched  by  the 
speech  and  the  tokens  that  honored  the  fallen  outlaw, 
both  as  foe  and  as  king.  Yet  in  his  face  there  was  still 
seen  a  moody  and  proud  strugglejJj£L-pause(J  before  he 
turned  to  the  chiefs.  ^\\\.    ,  '  V    ^S^ 

"What  counsel  ye  —  ye/fitrong  in  battle,  ano^isei^ 
debate?"  said  he.  fj  '  '    '  '  V 

With  one  voice  all,  save\|he  Fatal  Three)  eidafimed  :  A 

"Hear  the  monk,  0  king>^  / ,        *  ^ 

"  Shall  we  dissuade  ? "  whispere^^ua^TO  ho^^e  old 
chief,  his  accomplice. 

"No  ;  for  so  doing,  we  shall  offend  all : — and  we  must 
win  all." 

Then  the  bard  stepped  into  the  ring.     And  the  ring 

L— 32 


314  HAROLD. 

was  hushed,  for  wise  is  ever  the  counsel  of  him  whose 
book  is  the  human  heart. 

"  Hear  the  Saxons,"  said  he,  briefly,  and  with  an  air 
of  command  when  adressing  others,  which  contrasted 
strongly  his  tender  respect  to  the  king ;  "  hear  the 
Saxons,  but  not  in  these  walls.  Let  no  man  from  the 
foe  see  our  strength  or  our  weakness.  We  are  still 
mighty  and  impregnable,  while  our  dwelling  is  in  the 
realm  of  the  Unknown.  Let  the  king,  and  his  officers 
of  state,  and  his  chieftains  of  battle,  descend  to  the  pass. 
And  behind,  at  the  distance,  let  the  spearsmen  range 
from  cliff  to  cliff,  as  a  ladder  of  steel ;  so  will  their 
numbers  seem  the  greater." 

"Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  king. 

Meanwhile,  the  knight  and  the  monk  waited  below  at 
that  terrible  pass,*  which  then  lay  between  mountain 
and  river,  and  over  which  the  precipices  frowned,  with  a 
s.ense  of  horror  and  weight.  Looking  up,  the  knight 
r^urmured  — 

"With  those  stones  and  crags  to  roll  down  on  a 
marching  army,  the  place  well  defies  storm  and  assault ; 
and  a  hundred  on  the  height  would  overmatch  thousands 
below." 

He  then  turned  to  address  a  few  words,  with  all  the 
far-famed  courtesy  of  Norman  and  Frank,  to  the  Welch 
guards  at  the  outpost.  They  were  picked  men ;  the 
strongest  and  best  armed  and  best  fed  of  the  group.    But 

*  I  believe  it  was  not  till  the  last  century  that  a  good  road  took 
the  place  of  this  pass. 


HAROLD.  3t5 

they  shook  their  heads  and  answered  not,  gazing  at  him 
fiercely  and  showing  their  white  teeth,  as  dogs  at  a  bear 
before  they  are  loosened  from  the  band. 

"  They  understand  me  not,  poor  languageless  savages  !" 
said  Mallet  de  Graville,  turning  to  the  monk,  who  stood 
by  with  the  lifted  rood;  "speak  to  them  in  their  own 
jargon." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Welch  monk,  who,  though  of  a  rival 
tribe  from  South  Wales,  and  at  the  service  of  Harold, 
was  esteemed  throughout  the  land  for  piety  and  learning, 
"they  will  not  open  mouth  till  the  king's  orders  come  to 
receive,  or  dismiss  us  unheard." 

"  Dismiss  us  unheard  ! "  repeated  the  punctilious  Nor- 
man ;  "  even  this  poor  barbarous  king  can  scarcely  be  so 
strange  to  all  comely  and  gentle  usage,  as  to  put  such 
insult  on  Guillaume  Mallet  de  Graville.  But,"  added 
the  knight,  coloring,  "  I  forgot  that  he  is  not  advised  of 
my  name  and  land  ;  and,  indeed,  sith  thou  art  to  be 
spokesman,  I  marvel  why  Harold  should  have  prayed  my 
service  at  all,  at  the  risk  of  subjecting  a  Norman  knight 
to  affronts  contumelious." 

"Peradventure,"  replied  Evan,  "peradventure  thou 
hast  something  to  whisper  apart  to  the  king,  which,  as 
stranger  and  warrior,  none  will  venture  to  question  ;  but 
which  from  me,  as  countryman  and  priest,  would  excite 
the  jealous  suspicions  of  those  around  him." 

"I  conceive  thee,"  said  De  Graville.  "And  see, 
spears  are  gleaming  down  the  path  ;  and,  per  pedes 
Domini,  yon  chief  with  the  mantle,  and  circlet  of  gold 


376  HAROLD. 

on  his  bead,  is  the  cat-king  that  so  spitted  and  scratched 

in  the  melee  last  night." 

"Heed  well  thy  tongue,"  said  Evan,  alarmed;  "no 
jests  with  the  leader  of  men." 

"  Kuowest  thou,  good  monk,  that  a  facete  and  most 
gentil  Roman  (if  the  saintly  writer,  from  whom  I  take 
the  citation,  reports  aright — for  alas  !  I  know  not  where 
myself  to  purchase,  or  to  steal,  one  copy  of  Horatius 
Flaccus)  hath  said,  '  Dulce  est  desipere  in  loco.''  It  is 
sweet  to  jest,  but  not  within  reach  of  claws,  whether  of 
kaisars  or  cats." 

Therewith  the  knight  drew  up  his  spare  but  stately 
figure ;  and,  arranging  his  robe  with  grace  and  dignity, 
awaited  the  coming  chief. 

Down  the  pass,  one  by  one,  came  first  the  chiefs, 
privileged  by  birth  to  attend  the  king ;  and  each,  as  he 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  pass,  drew  on  the  upper  side, 
among  the  stones  of  the  rough  ground.  Then  a  banner, 
tattered  and  torn,  with  the  lion  ensign  that  the  Welch 
princes  had  substituted  for  the  old  national  dragon, 
which  the  Saxons  of  Wessex  had  appropriated  to  them- 
selves,* preceded  the  steps   of  the  king.     Behind  him 

*  The  Saxons  of  Wessex  seem  to  have  adopted  the  dragon  for 
their  ensign,  from  an  early  period.  It  was  probably  for  this  reason 
that  it  was  assumed  by  Edward  Ironsides,  as  the  hero  of  the  Saxons; 
the  principality  of  Wessex  forming  the  most  important  portion  of 
the  pure  Saxon  race,  while  its  founder  was  the  ancestor  of  the 
imperial  house  of  Basileus  of  Britain.  The  dragon  seems  also  to 
have  been  a  Norman  ensign.  The  lions  or  leopards,  popularly 
assigned  to  the  Conqueror,  are  certainly  a  later  invention.     There 


HAROLD.  3*77 

came  his  falconer  and  bard,  and  the  rest  of  his  scanty 
household.  The  king  halted  in  the  pass,  a  few  steps 
from  the  Xorman  knight ;  and  Mallet  de  Graville,  though 
accustomed  to  the  majestic  mien  of  Duke  William,  and 
the  practised  state  of  the  princes  of  France  and  Flan- 
ders, felt  an  involuntary  thrill  of  admiration  at  the  bear- 
ing of  the  great  child  of  Xature  with  bis  foot  on  his 
fathers'  soil. 

Small  and  slight  as  was  his  stature,  worn  and  ragged 
his  mantle  of  state,  there  was  that  in  the  erect  mien  and 
steady  eye  of  the  Cymrian  hero,  which  showed  one  con- 
scious of  authority,  and  potent  in  will ;  and  the  wave  of 
his  hand  to  the  knight  was  the  gesture  of  a  prince  on  his 
throne.  Nor,  indeed,  was  that  brave  and  ill-fated  chief 
without  some  irregular  gleams  of  mental  cultivation, 
which,  under  happier  auspices,  might  have  centered  into 
steadfast  light.  Though  the  learning  which  had  once  ex- 
isted in  Wales  (the  last  legacy  of  Rome)  had  long  since 
expired  in  broil  and  blood,  and  youths  no  longer  flocked 
to  the  colleges  of  Caerleon,  and  priests  no  longer  adorned 
the  casuistical  theology  of  the  age,  Gryflfyth  himself,  the 

is  no  appearance  of  them  on  the  banners  and  shields  of  the  Norman 
army  in  the  Bayeux  tapestry.  Armorial  bearings  were  in  use 
amongst  the  Welch,  and  even  the  Saxons,  long  before  heraldry  was 
reduced  to  a  science  by  the  Franks  and  Normans  ;  and  the  dragon, 
which  is  supposed  by  many  critics  to  be  borrowed  from  the  east, 
through  the  Saracens,  certainly  existed  as  an  armorial  ensign  with 
the  Cymrians  before  they  could  have  had  any  obligation  to  the 
Bongs  and  legends  of  that  people. 

32* 


378  HAROLD. 

son  of  a  wise  and  famous  father,*  had  received  an  educa^ 
tion  beyond  the  average  of  Saxon  kings.  But,  intensely 
national,  his  mind  had  turned  from  all  other  literature, 
to  the  legends,  and  songs,  and  chronicles  of  his  land  ;  and 
if  he  is  the  best  scholar  who  best  understands  his  own 
tongue  and  its  treasures,  Gryflfyth  was  the  most  erudite 
prince  of  his  age.  His  natural  talents,  for  war  especially, 
were  considerable  ;  and  judged  fairly — not  as  mated  with 
an  empty  treasury,  without  other  army  than  the  capri- 
cious will  of  his  subjects  afforded  ;  and,  amidst  his  bitter- 
est foes  in  the  jealous  chiefs  of  his  own  country,  against 
the  disciplined  force  and  comparative  civilization  of  the 
Saxon  —  but  as  compared  with  all  the  other  princes  of 
Wales,  in  warfare,  to  which  he  was  habituated,  and  in 
which  chances  were  even,  the  fallen  son  of  Llewellyn  had 
been  the  most  renowned  leader  that  Cymry  had  known 
since  the  death  of  the  great  Roderic. 

So  there  he  stood  ;  his  attendants  ghastly  with  famine, 
drawn  up  on  the  unequal  ground  ;  above,  on  the  heights, 
and  rising  from  the  stone  crags,  long  lines  of  spears  art- 
fully placed  ;  and,  watching  him  with  deathful  eyes,  some- 
what in  his  rear,  the  Traitor  Three. 

"  Speak,  father,  or  chief,"  said  the  Welch  king  in  his 
native  tongue  ;  "  what  would  Harold  the  earl,  of  Gryffyth 
the  king  ?  " 

Then  the  monk  took  up  the  word  and  spoke. 

*  "  In  -whose  time  the  earth  brought  forth  double,  and  there  was 
neither  beggar  nor  poor  man  from  the  North  to  the  South  Sea.'*  — 
Towell's  Hisf.  of  Wales,  p.  83. 


HAROLD.  3T9 

i 

"  Health  to  Gryffyth-ap-Llewellyn,  his  chiefs  and  hia 

people  !  Thus  saith  Harold,  King  Edward's  thegn  :  — 
By  land,  all  the  passes  are  watched  ;  by  sea,  all  the  waves 
are  our  own.  Our  swords  rest  in  our  sheaths  ;  but  Famine 
marches  each  hour  to  gride  and  to  slay.  Instead  of  sure 
death  from  the  hunger,  take  sure  life  from  the  foe.  Free 
pardon  to  all,  chiefs  and  people,  and  safe  return  to  their 
homes, — save  Gryfifyth  alone.  Let  him  come  forth,  not 
as  victim  and  outlaw,  not  with  bent  form  and  clasped 
hands,  but  as  chief  meeting  chief,  with  his  household  of 
state.  Harold  will  meet  him,  in  honor,  at  the  gates  of 
the  fort.  Let  Gryffyth  submit  to  King  Edward,  and  ride 
with  Harold  to  the  Court  of  the  Basileus.  Harold 
promises  him  life,  and  will  plead  for  his  pardon.  And 
though  the  peace  of  this  realm,  and  the  fortune  of  war, 
forbid  Harold  to  say,  '  Thou  shalt  yet  be  a  king  ; '  yet  thy 
crown,  son  of  Llewellyn,  shall  at  least  be  assured  in  the 
line  of  thy  fathers,  and  the  race  of  Cadwallader  shall  still 
reign  in  Cyrary." 

The  monk  paused,  and  hope  and  joy  were  in  the  faces 
of  the  famished  chiefs ;  while  two  of  the  Traitor  Three 
suddenly  left  their  post,  and  sped  to  tell  the  message  to 
the  spearmen  and  multitudes  above.  Modred,  the  third 
conspirator,  laid  his  hand  on  his  hilt,  and  stole  near  to 
see  the  face  of  the  king  ;  the  face  of  the  king  was  dark 
and  angry,  as  a  midnight  of  storm. 

Then,  raising  the  cross  on  high,  Evan  resumed. 

"And  T,  though  of  the  people  of  Gwentland,  which  the 
arms  of  Gryffyth  have  wasted,  and  whose  prince  fell  be- 


380  HAROLD. 

neath  Gryffyth's  sword  on  the  hearth  of  his  hall  —  I,  as 
God's  servant,  the  brother  of  all  I  behold,  and,  as  son  of 
the  soil,  mourning  over  the  slaughter  of  its  latest  defend- 
ers,—  I,  by  this  symbol  of  love  and  command,  which  I 
raise  to  the  heaven,  adjure  thee,  0  king,  to  give  ear  to 
the  mission  of  peace,  —  to  cast  down  the  grim  pride  of 
earth.  And,  instead  of  the  crown  of  a  day,  fix  thy  hopes 
on  the  crown  everlasting.  For  much  shall  be  pardoned 
to  thee  in  thine  hour  of  pomp  and  of  conquest,  if  now 
thou  savest  from  doom  and  from  death  the  last  lives  over 
which  thou  art  lord." 

It  was  during  this  solemn  appeal  that  the  knight, 
marking  the  sign  announced  to  him,  and,  drawing  close 
to  Gryfifyth,  pressed  the  ring  into  the  king's  hand,  and 
whispered,  — 

"  Obey  by  this  pledge.  Thou  knowest  Harold  is  true, 
and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people." 
'  The  king  cast  a  haggard  eye  at  the  speaker,  and  then 
at  the  ring,  over  which  his  hand  closed  with  a  convulsive 
spasm.  And,  at  that  dread  instant,  the  man  prevailed 
over  the  king  ;  and  far  away  from  people  and  monk,  from 
adjuration  and  duty,  fled  his  heart  on  the  wings  of  the 
storm — fled  to  the  cold  wife  he  distrusted  ;  and  the  pledge 
that  should  assure  him  of  life,  seemed  as  a  love-token 
insulting  his  fall :  —  Amidst  all  the  roar  of  roused  pas- 
sions, loudest  of  all  was  the  hiss  of  the  jealous  fiend. 

As  the  monk  ceased,  the  thrill  of  the  audience  was 
perceptible,  and  a  deep  silence  was  followed  by  a  general 
murmur,  as  if  to  constrain  the  king. 


HAROLD.  S81 

Then  the  pride  of  the  despot  chief  rose  up  to  second 
the  wrath  of  the  suspecting  man.  The  red  spot  flushed 
the  dark  cheek,  and  he  tossed  the  neglected  hair  from  his 
brow. 

He  made  one  stride  towards  the  monk,  and  said,  in  a 
voice  loud,  and  deep,  and  slow,  rolling  far  up  the  hill,  — 

"  Monk,  thou  hast  said  ;  and  now  hear  the  reply  of  the 
son  of  Llewellyn,  the  true  heir  of  Roderic  the  Great,  who 
from  the  heights  of  Eryri  saw  all  the  lands  of  the  Cym- 
rian  sleeping  under  the  dragon  of  Uther.  King  was  I 
born,  and  king  will  I  die.  I  will  not  ride  by  the  side  of 
the  Saxon  to  the  feet  of  Edward,  the  son  of  the  spoiler. 
I  will  not,  to  purchase  base  life,  surrender  the  claim,  vain 
before  men  and  the  hour,  but  solemn  before  God  and 
posterity  —  the  claim  of  my  line  and  my  people.  All 
Britain  is  ours — all  the  Island  of  Pines.  And  the  child- 
ren of  Hengist  are  traitors  and  rebels  —  not  the  heirs  of 
Ambrosius  and  Uther.  Say  to  Harold  the  Saxon,  Ye 
have  left  us  but  the  tomb  of  the  Druid  and  the  hills  of 
the  eagle  ;  but  freedom  and  royalty  are  ours,  in  life  and 
in  death — not  for  you  to  demand  them,  not  for  us  to  be- 
tray. Nor  fear  ye,  0  my  chiefs,  few,  but  unmatched  in 
glory  and  truth  ;  fear  not  ye  to  perish  by  the  hunger  thus 
denounced  as  our  doom,  on  these  heights  that  command 
the  fruits  of  our  own  fields  !  No,  die  we  may,  but  not 
mute  and  revengeless.  Go  back,  whispering  warrior; 
go  back,  false  son  of  Cymry  —  and  tell  Harold  to  look 
well  to  his  walls  and  his  trenches.  We  will  vouchsafe 
him  grace  for  his  grace  —  we  will  not  take  him  by  sur- 


382  HAROLD. 

prise,  nor  under  cloud  of  the  night.  With  the  gleam  of 
our  spears  and  the  clash  of  our  shields,  we  will  come  from 
the  hill ;  and,  famine-worn  as  he  deems  us,  hold  a  feast 
in  his  walls  which  the  eagles  of  Snowdon  spread  their 
pinions  to  share  I  " 

"  Rash  man  and  unhappy  I  "  cried  the  monk  ;  "  what 
curse  drawest  thou  down  on  thy  head  !  Wilt  thou  be  the 
murtherer  of  thy  men,  in  strife  unavailing  and  vain  ? 
Heaven  holds  thee  guilty  of  all  the  blood  thou  shalt 
cause  to  be  shed." 

"Be  dumb!  —  hush  thy  screech,  lying  raven!"  ex- 
claimed Gryffyth,  his  eyes  darting  fire,  and  his  slight  form 
dilating.  "  Once,  priest  and  monk  went  before  us  to  in- 
spire, not  to  daunt ;  and  our  cry,  Allelulia  I  was  taught 
us  by  the  saints  of  the  Church,  on  the  day  when  Saxons, 
fierce  and  many  as  Harold's,  fell  on  the  field  of  Maes- 
Garmon.  No,  the  curse  is  on  the  head  of  the  invader, 
not  on  those  who  defend  hearth  and  altar.  Yea,  as  the 
song  to  the  bard,  the  curse  leaps  through  my  veins,  and 
rushes  forth  from  my  lips.  By  the  land  they  have 
ravaged  ;  by  the  gore  they  have  spilt ;  on  these  crags,  our 
last  refuge  ;  below  the  earn  on  yon  heights,  where  the 
Dead  stir  to  hear  me, — I  launch  the  curse  of  the  wronged 
and  the  doomed  on  the  children  of  Hengist  1  They  in 
turn  shall  know  the  steel  of  the  stranger  —  their  crown 
shall  be  shivered  as  glass,  and  their  nobles  be  as  slaves 
in  the  land.  And  the  line  of  Hengist  and  Cerdic  shall 
be  rased  from  the  roll  of  empire.  And  the  ghosts  of  our 
fathers  shall  glide,  appeased,  over   the   grave   of  their 


HAROLD.  383 

nation.  But  we  —  we,  though  weak  in  the  body,  in  the 
soul  shall  be  strong  to  the  last !  The  ploughshare  may- 
pass  over  our  cities,  but  the  soil  shall  be  trod  by  our 
steps,  and  our  deeds  keep  our  language  alive  in  the  songs 
of  our  bards.  Nor,  in  the  great  Judgment  Day,  shall 
any  race  but  the  race  of  Cymry  rise  from  their  graves 
in  this  corner  of  earth,  to  answer  for  the  sins  of  the 
brave  ! "  * 

So  impressive  the  voice,  so  grand  the  brow,  and  sub- 
lime the  wild  gesture  of  the  king,  as  he  thus  spoke,  that 
not  only  the  monk  himself  was  awed ;  not  only,  though 
he  understood  not  the  words,  did  the  Norman  knight 
bow  his  head,  as  a  child  when  the  lightning  he  fears  as 
by  instinct,  flashes  out  from  the  cloud,  —  but  even  the 
sullen  and  wide-spreading  discontent  at  work  among  most 
of  the  chiefs  was  arrested  for  a  moment.  But  the  spear- 
men and  multitude  above,  excited  by  the  tidings  of  safety 
to  life,  and  worn  out  by  repeated  defeat,  and  the  dread 

*  "  During  the  military  expeditions  made  in  our  days  against 
South  Wales,  an  old  AVelchman  at  Pencadair,  who  had  faithfully 
adhered  to  him  (Henry  II.),  being  desired  to  give  his  opinion  about 
the  royal  army,  and  whether  he  thought  that  of  the  rebels  would 
make  resistance,  and  what  he  thought  would  be  the  final  event  of 
this  war,  replied:  'This  nation,  0  king,  may  now,  as  in  former 
times,  be  harassed,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  be  weakened  and  de- 
stroyed by  you  and  other  powers:  and  it  will  often  prevail  by  its 
laudable  exertions,  but  it  can  never  be  totally  subdued  by  the 
wrath  of  man,  unless  the  wrath  of  God  shall  concur.  lior  do  I 
think  thai  any  other  nation  than  this  of  Wales,  or  any  other  language 
{whatever  may  hereafter  come  to  pass),  shall  in  the  day  of  aevere  ex- 
amination before  the  Supreme  Judge  answer  for  this  corner  of  the 
earth. "'^  —  Hoark's  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  vol.  i.  p.  361. 


384  HAROLD. 

fear  of  famine,  too  remote  to  hear  the  king,  were  listening 
eagerly  to  the  insidious  addresses  of  the  two  stealthy  con- 
spirators, creeping  from  rank  to  rank  ;  and  already  they 
began  to  sway  and  move,  and  sweep  slowly  down  towards 
the  king. 

Recovering  his  surprise,  the  Norman  again  neared 
Gryffyth,  and  began  to  re-urge  his  mission  of  peace.  But 
the  chief  waved  him  back  sternly,  and  said  aloud,  though 
in  Saxon  :  — 

"  No  secrets  can  pass  between  Harold  and  me.  This 
much  alone,  take  thou  back  as  answer:  —  I  thank  the 
earl,  for  myself,  my  queen,  and  my  people.  Noble  have 
been  his  courtesies,  as  foe  ;  as  foe  I  thank  him — as  king, 
defy.  The  torque  he  hath  returned  to  my  hand,  he  shall 
see  again  ere  the  sun  set.  Messengers,  ye  are  answered. 
Withdraw,  and  speed  fast,  that  we  may  pass  not  your 
steps  on  the  road." 

The  monk  sighed,  and  cast  a  look  of  holy  compassion 
over  the  circle  ;  and  a  pleased  man  was  he  to  see  in  the 
faces  of  most  there,  that  the  king  was  alone  in  his  fierce 
defiance.  Then  lifting  again  the  rood,  he  turned  away, 
and  with  him  went  the  Norman. 

The  retirement  of  the  messengers  was  the  signal  for 
one  burst  of  remonstrance  from  the  chiefs — the  signal  for 
the  voice  and  the  deeds  of  the  Fatal  Three.  Down  from 
the  heights  sprang  and  rushed  the  angry  and  turbulent 
multitudes ;  round  the  king  came  the  bard  and  the 
falconer,  and  some  faithful  few. 

The   great    uproar  of  many  voices  caused  the  monk 


HAROLD.  385 

and  the  knight  to  pause  abruptly  in  their  descent,  and 
turn  to  look  behind.  They  could  see  the  crowd  rushing 
down  from  the  higher  steeps  ;  but  on  the  spot  itself  which 
they  had  so  lately  left,  the  nature  of  the  ground  only  per- 
mitted a  confused  view  of  spear-points,  lifted  swords,  and 
heads  crowned  wath  shaggy  locks,  swaying  to  and  fro. 

"What  means  all  this  commotion  ?"  asked  the  knight, 
with  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

"  Hist ! "  said  the  monk,  pale  as  ashes,  and  leaning  for 
support  upon  the  cross. 

Suddenly,  above  the  hubbub,  was  heard  the  voice  of 
the  king,  in  accents  of  menace  and  wrath,  singularly  dis- 
tinct and  clear  ;  it  was  followed  by  a  moment's  silence  — 
a  moment's  silence  followed  by  the  clatter  of  arms,  a  yell, 
and  a  howl,  and  the  indescribable  shock  of  men. 

And  suddenly  again  was  heard  a  voice  that  seemed 
that  of  the  king,  but  no  longer  distinct  and  clear  ! — was 
it  laugh? — was  it  groan? 

All  was  bushed  ;  the  monk  was  on  his  knees  in  prayer  ; 
the  knight's  sword  was  bare  in  his  hand.  All  was  hushed 
—  and  the  spears  stood  still  in  the  air;  when  there  was 
again  a  cry,  as  multitudinous  but  less  savage  than  before. 
And  the  Welch  came  down  the  pass,  and  down  the  crags. 

The  knight  placed  his  back  to  a  rock.  "  They  have 
orders  to  murther  us,"  he  murmured ;  "  but  woe  to  the 
first  who  come  within  reach  of  my  sword  ! " 

Down  swarmed  the  Welchmen,  nearer  and  nearer  ;  and 
in  the  midst  of  them  three  chiefs — the  Fatal  Three.  And 
the  old  chief  bore  in  his  hand  a  pole  or  spear,  and  on  the 

I.  —  33  z 


o80  HAROLD. 

top  of  that  spear,  trickling  gore  step  by  step,  was  the 

trunkless  head  of  Gryffyth  the  king.  ' 

"  This,''  said  the  old  chief,  as  he  drew  near,  "  this  is 
our  answer  to  Harold  the  earl.     We  will  go  with  ye." 

"Food!  foodf"  cried  the  multitude. 

And  the  three  chiefs  (one  on  either  side  the  trunkless 
head  that  the  third  bore  aloft)  whispered,  "We  are 
avenged  I " 


END    OF    THE    riUST    VOLUME. 


o^ 


m^^..  -^^^ 


^%& 


ML' ■'■•>.  •   .  \i^. 


.^"»'.  i  >.m 


